Five Reasons To Love Sheep
by Wiza123
Summary: Alice has always been a vivid dreamer. One night she finds herself in the company of a Wizard, a Hobbit and a band of Dwarves, one of whom she takes a particular interest in. It soon becomes apparent that the borders between universes are no longer clearly defined when she wakes the next morning to that same young Dwarf in her bed. Enjoy! (Kili x OC & Fili x OC)
1. Chapter 1: Introductions

**_AN: Yes, the title is bizarre, but don't be scared! A warning: It just gets weirder from here on out. _**

**_I've been meaning to upload something fun and light hearted for a while; I've never tried my hand at comedy, so here goes nothing 0_0_**

**_The first few chapters of this have been written for months, but I decided to upload it in honor of the second film being released. I desperately needed to vent my Dwarf feels._**

**_Lead pairing will be Kili x OC... damn, that Dwarf is fine. Give them to be beardless any day of the week. Then there will be Fili x OC, and just general Thorin/ Dwalin/ Bofur/ Ori feels (not in a slash way...)_**

**_It's going to be a big, bizarre, fourth-wall breaking bonanza which will hopefully make you laugh, cry, and laugh some more. I have an obsession with referencing other fandoms, so look out for Sherlock, Doctor Who, The Walking Dead, Star Trek, and other fandom things- they're like little Easter eggs! _**

**_Due to the nature of the fic, we follow both Canon and AU SIMULTANEOUSLY. It's pretty cray-cray._**

**_Right, _****_I've wittered on enough; on with the story!_**

* * *

**Chapter One:**

**Introductions**

I have come to the quite justifiable conclusion that I am one of two things:

1) Dreaming

2) Hallucinating

Why do I say this? Oh, it's quite simple, really: I have no idea where I am. I have no idea how I got here, and I have no idea how I'm going to get home.

But we'll get to that in a moment... first of all, introductions. My name is Arianna Belladonna Iracebeth Michonnious Wilcox the Third.

That, of course, was a lie, but that's how these sort of things are supposed to begin, aren't they? With a dramatic introduction. If that's what you were expecting, you might as well leave now, my dears- I, unfortunately, or perhaps very fortunately, am not Arianna Belladonna Iracebeth Michonnious Wilcox the Third. If you are, then a big fat hello to you, and a high-five to your creative and terribly wicked parents.

I have a rather boring name, in fact; Alice. I wouldn't even bother remembering it, if I were you. Nothing special, no magical connotations, unless you count the whole Wonderland thing and Alice Cooper, but I don't think I'm interesting enough to be related to either of those. My middle name, however, is Lavender, which I think is quite pretty. From the ages of thirteen to fifteen I was convinced that when I became a legal adult I would immediately change my forename to my middle; that was until my best friend, Josie, pointed out that I would inevitably be nicknamed _'Lav'_, and no one wants to be nicknamed after a slur for toilet.

But I digress. Back to the here and now; as I said, I have no idea where I am. I have been on this tiny pebble road for as long as I can remember. Of all the places to have some sort of mental breakdown (if that's what's going on in my little head), this place isn't too bad; it's rather pretty, now that I'm really giving it a look. Quaint. Looks like something from The Teletubbies. There are tiny little streams, babbling brooks, grassy hills, and, here and there, big wooden circles that somewhat resemble doors in the mounds of grass all around. Perhaps they _are_ doors; at the moment, that does not concern me.

Because right now, I'm being chased by giant sheep.

_Sheep? Sheeps? Sheepi?_ I've never been great with plurals; not that my grasp of the English language matters all that much right now. I didn't even know that Sheep could _run,_ never mind chase people, but there you go- it is what it is. I'm not sure why I'm running, to be honest; after all, what's the worst sheep can do, giant or otherwise? All I know is that, right now, I don't really want to know the answer to that question. Quite unremarkably I fall face-first into the dirt, smothering my hands and clothing in dust and grit as I go. With a new-found spring in my step I fumble to my feet and run. As I do so, my eyes catch on to something glowing in the distance and naturally I head towards it; light means people, and people mean saviours who can rescue me from the wrath of the vicious, bloated marshmallows who are pursuing me. It comes to my attention then that they are probably not chasing me, but are instead running from something else; either way, it's good enough reason for me to get the hell out of here as fast as possible. I reach the source of the light and find that it is not the promise of people, but a tiny florescent blue mark carved into one of the wooden door things- for lack of any other solution I knock wildly on it, and by some miracle it opens rather swiftly.

A small, large-eared man stands the other side, and I practically force my way inside his house in my attempt to escape the stampede of bleating cotton balls. The flustered man fusses around me, asking me what I'm doing here, what sort of a cheek I have, who on earth am I, before he slams the door shut upon seeing the platoon of charging sheep. I stand in the hole- the miraculously decorated hole, might I add- and gasp heavily, hand on my chest as I try to control my breathing.

"Thank you," I heave, looking up to the confused man. He is small, at least three of four inches shorter than myself, with a kindly yet frown-set face and a head of hair so thick can barely control my impulse to reach out and take a handful of it. After all, it is _my_ dream we're in. I'm sure he wouldn't mind.

"Who might you be, if you don't mind my asking?!" the small man says, standing back from me as though I were a bull who had just penetrated the walls of his glass-walled china shop.

_It's a dream,_ I think. I can tell him anything I like... if I want to, I _can _be Arianna Belladonna Iracebeth Michonnious Wilcox the Third. But I think not... I'll go for my middle name. Alice has always been a little too bland for my tastes.

"Lavender," I tell him with a flustered smile, holding my hand in a gesture of good faith.

He scrunches his nose up at the offer, and rather than shaking my hand offers me a towel to wipe off the dirt and grit embedded in my palms from my fall.

"Thanks again," I chime, scrubbing out the filth. "I was running from the big-ass sheep out there."

"Yes, I did notice the sheep. Something must have disturbed them to cause them to stampede like that; a loose pony, perhaps. Or a wild dog... well, whatever it was, they have gone now, so if you'll be on your way-"

"You have a beautiful house," I note, observing the ornate decor. I glance down at the feet to the man and realise they are quite frankly huge for his small physique. And bare. And _hairy._ I can hardly take my eyes off them. Eventually I regain my composure and ask,

"Where are we?"

The man looks at me with a gentle yet hard expression.

"You don't know where you are?"

"No idea, I'm afraid."

"...You're quite sure you don't know where you are?"

"Quite sure indeed. Do you mind if I check your light switches a moment?"

The small man looks at me as though I have been speaking in some variant form of Pig-Latin.

"...Excuse me?"

"Oh, I just have to check whether or not I'm dreaming. Light switches never work when we- well, I say _we,_ you're not real, just a projection of my subconscious- when _real_ people dream. Or do you have something I can read, maybe? Can't read in dreams, either. Reading is controlled by the left side of our- _real people's-_ brains, and dreaming is entirely right..."

Still, the tiny man looks at me with that confused expression.

"...I'm rambling, aren't I."

He looks terribly concerned, clearly thinking me mad. _Perhaps I am._

"Are you in shock?" he asks, and I shrug.

"Quite possibly, yes. It might have something to do with all the giant sheep out there."

"The sheep here are not giant," the man informs me, "they are of a perfectly regular size-"

"Whatever you say, dear little projection of my subconscious... goodness, you are little."

"I am a Hobbit-"

"Of course you are. Carry on with what you were saying, I'm all ears... and it looks like I'm not the only one." I nod at the appendages of the gentleman before me, and he looks offended; and rightly so. "Oh, don't get upset," I tell him sweetly. "You're not real, remember."

"Perhaps you should sit down," the man offers, despite obviously being horrified by the intrusion I have made on him home, and I feel a little guilty for teasing him, in spite of the fact that he doesn't actually exist. He clearly he thinks me insane, regardless, so perhaps he will excuse my rudeness. He leads me through to what I assume is his kitchen, and sits me down on a wooden stall. He vanishes for a moment to the pantry and returns with a glass of luke-warm water, which I sip gratefully.

"What's your name, then?"

"Bilbo Baggins," he says.

"Bilbo Baggins," I repeat to myself, playing with the lyrical name; it's a name like bubbles popping. I roll it around on my tongue, quite impressed with the creativeness of my subconscious. I sit at the table with my water and my confusion, quite determined that this is just a dream. Suddenly there is a sharp knock on the oak door.

"Well, Bilbo Baggins," I purr, "looks like you've got visitors."

"Hmm," he agrees, "...unexpected visitors. If you'll just excuse me a moment."

I nod and listen intently as his light footsteps trial to the hall. The heavy front door groans open and booming voice echoes through the hallway.

"Dwalin," it proclaims. "At your service."

"Fancy," I murmur in a congratulatory tone, swallowing back the last of the water.

"Bilbo Baggins, at yours," mutters the home owner in the hallway, "do we know each other?"

"No," says the second voice, "which way, Laddie? Is it down here?"

"Is what down where-?"

"Supper. He said there'd be food and lots of it."

"He... _he_ said? Who said?!"

Footsteps thunder through the hall, and the small man returns with a far taller, far older, far _balder _gentleman with what I can only describe as a most fantastical beard and an array of tribal-looking tattoos. He grins with a row of yellowing teeth, draws out the chair opposing me and slams heavily down against it, his fur collar tickling his cheek.

"Fetch us a drink, then, Lassie."

... And that, my friends, is when things started to get interesting.

* * *

**AN: **

**-QUESTION TIME! (Minor spoilers)-**

_**Q: Should I call her Alice or Lavender?**_

**A: Up to you, really. Personally I refer to her as Lavender mentally, but it's all down to what your brain likes better :D**

_**Q: What are the ship names? *MINOR PAIRING SPOILERS- BUT LETS FACE IT, YOU ALREADY KNOW THIS ONE***_

**A: Kili + Alice/Lavender= Lili & Kavice, ****And also **

***BIGGER PAIRING SPOILERS***

**Josie + Fili= Jili/ Fisie.**

****** That was the group decision :D**

_**Q: When will Alive/Lav wake up the first time?**_

**A: She wakes up briefly in the next chapter, and in the chapter after that _*the*_ moment happens.**

_**Q: Lavender is talking about giant sheep & how Gandalf is SO TALL.. did she shrink?**_

**A: ...for all extents and purposes, Yes. But also No... that will be explained a little further on :D**

_**Q: Is Dis Fili and Kili's mom's real name?**_

**A: Yes, yes it is! I'm going to try to stick to Tolkein canon AMAP throughout.**

_**Q: Does LOTR/The Hobbit films and books exist within Alice's world?**_

**A: They do, but I'm working by this; the films haven't been made, so lots of teh unculturd yoong ppls _(Alice included)_ don't know about the series; that will be a big plot point later on when we're introduced to one of the other characters.**

_**A: Are you a Wizard?**_

**Q: Alas, unfortunately I am not. But a girl can dream. **

* * *

** Any more Q's, just let me know. See you next chapter! :D**


	2. Chapter 2: Unexpected Visitors

_**AN: Hello again, you! Glad to see you've decided to stick around for another chapter.**_

_**If you started following in chapter one, I've re-written it now, and it is far longer (and far better) than it was two days ago! ;D Feel free to read it again, if you wish. **__**Introducing Kili and Fili in this chapter, hurray!**_

_******And as for our dear OC, bare with her a little- I know she comes across as a little rude at the moment (which wasn't my initial intention), but she does believe herself to be dreaming and that no one around her is real at this point... give her time to adjust ;D **_

**Chapter Two:**

**Unexpected Visitors**

_"Fetch us a drink, then, Lassie."_

I stare open-mouthed at the huge man, his thick fingers tapping on the table and the silver gauntlets gripping to his knuckles and heavily scarred forearms. I decide not to question his unusual sense of dress due to the fact that I am, of course, dreaming.

"Lass," the man repeats, "a drink."

I open my mouth to speak, and stare down into my empty cup; without another word, I stand and make my way into the pantry.

"You don't mind, do you?" I call across to Bilbo as I take a new chalice from the counter, and he seems to panic a moment, befuddled between directing me towards the store of alcohol and asking his new guest what on earth he was doing in his home.

I twist the barrel of the ale keg and fill the broad mug with the rancid smelling liquid. I shuffle back to the kitchen and hand the mug over to Dwalin, who thanks me gruffly and stoops back over a plate of pre-prepared food; he congratulates Bilbo on is culinary skills and bites the head off a slimy fish, a scale or two spraying across the table. One hits the sleeve of my shirt and I grimace.

It is then, as I flick the iridescent skin from my wrist, that it finally registers in my mind the clothes I am wearing.

Oh, good God.

Pyjamas. Typical.

And not just any pyjamas; the cheapest, scabbiest, girliest, most miss-matched pyjamas to ever grace the face of the earth. A pair of rainbow-covered fleece bottoms and a pale blue t-shirt with a crudely drawn ice cube on the front, and the corny slogan of 'stay cool' printed across its front in white ink.

Wonderful.

"Very good, this," Dwalin growls. "Any more?"

"What?" Bilbo stutters, "oh, yes, yes- ah- help yourself. Hmm. It's just that, um, I... wasn't expecting company."

Dwalin nods, clearly uninterested in anything the smaller man has to say. I purse my lips to shatter the silence, and as I do, the doorbell rings again.

"That'll be the door," Dwalin murmurs, and Bilbo, looking mortified, heads towards it.

"Fetch a drink for my kin, Lass. And another for me, I wouldn't mind."

Without question and now almost as flustered as the tiny home owner, I head back to Bilbo's kitchen and pour another mug of the bitter ale, taking a swig myself to help calm my nerves. _Just a dream,_ I remind myself. _Keep your cool..._ the phrase makes me thing of the stupid slogan on my t-shirt, and I groan aloud.  
When I return from the pantry, it is to another intruder in the home of the tetchy Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins. The new guest is older than the first, with a dispersed white beard and a coat the colour of oxblood. He has a positively bulbous nose, and the peculiarities of all of these characters are starting to make me believe that, rather than a dream, I am, in fact, hallucinating. I hand the kindly old man in the dark red coat his mug of ale, and there is a knock at the door again. Bilbo looks as though he might faint; I'm starting to feel rather sorry for the poor fellow.

"I'll get it," I offer with the aim of reliving some of his stress; I head to the door, reach for the handle, and Bilbo calls out,

"Don't let any more in-!"

Too late, dear Bilbo. I've already unlocked the door.

I haul it open, and make a small, involuntary _'Oh'_ sound upon seeing who stands the other side of it.

_Definitely dreaming._

Two young men stand the other side, the parallel of one another; the older-looking of the two is blonde with sharp blue eyes and a webbed beard; the younger, presumably his brother, is a little shorter and far darker, with shiny black eyes and a mess of long bistre-brown hair, stubble rather than a beard, with the same smug mouth as his partner.

Goodness me. You've out done yourself here, subconscious... kudos to you.

"Fili," says the blonde, offering a tiny bow.

"And Kili," mimics the darker, stooping of his own accord, "at your service. You must be Mr. Boggins."

"...Excuse me?" I say with a frown, and the older clips the dark brother around the back of his head with his palm.

"Forgive my little brother," the blonde says, stepping past me and into the house before handing me an armful of absurdly heavy weaponry, "careful with those, we've just had them sharpened- Kili is young and has seen very few women in his time, being Dwarven. He has most certainly never laid eyes on a She-Hobbit such as yourself... he meant no offence, I can assure you."

"Well, I'm not a man, or a Hobbit... and did you say Dwarven? ...Like, Dwarves? You two are_ Dwarves?"_

"Oh, looks as though we have found another who cannot distinguish races!" Fili laughs to his younger brother, handing me his coat and a shake of his broad hand, "a perfect match!"

I stare at the two, though decide not to question my dream-logic too far. Kili returns from wiping his boots on an expensive-looking glory box before offering his hand too, along with a muttered apology for his earlier assumption that I am of the masculine gender. I still fail to see how he could have reasoned me to be a man; mind you, if all Dwarves have hair like that, maybe distinguishing the two genders isn't so easy after all amongst their community.

"You are rather tall for Dwarves," I remark, staring the two up and down. The eyes of the darker brother light up fondly.

"Do you think?"

"Enough of that, brother," Fili teases, "come; there's food waiting."

The younger stares blankly from his brother to me, releasing my hand with a half-smile before muttering to his brother with a mortified expression,

"You said they all looked feminine-!"

"I meant they lack beards and the strength of our kind," Fili muttered, "they do not look exactly like women. I did not think you assumed they were to be... _buxom."_

The word registers in my mind, and I frown again, hauling the neckline of my top up past my collar bones self-consciously. Bilbo appears in the hall, and Fili points fondly at him.

"Ah! See here, Kili... _this_ is a male Hobbit. Mr. Boggins, I assume?"

"Baggins," Bilbo corrects, "and might I ask who you-?"

"Where's the food?" Kili interrupts excitedly, before Dwalin appears and scoops his arm around the younger brother, leading him away.

"It's not that I don't like visitors!" Bilbo calls after them as the troop of us head back to the dining room, "I like visitors as much as the next Hobbit. But I do like to know them _before _they come visiting-"

And then, like a banshee calling, there is another nock at the door.

"No!" Bilbo proclaims, "no, no, no, there is nobody home! Go away and bother somebody else, there are far too many Dwarves in my dining room as it is! If this is some clot-head's  
idea of a joke, I can only say it is in very poor taste!"

I swear I must have blacked out for a few moments, because the next thing I'm aware of is a flurry of Dwarves bursting through the house, and constant calls from Mr. Baggins of 'Not my wine, put that back. Not the jam, please! Excuse me. Excuse me... have you got a cheese knife?"

In the confusion, I find myself tripping face first over an orange that is rolling down the hallway, bashing my arm off the frame of the doorway, and walking straight into a man who is, quite frankly, enormous.

"Hmm... might I introduce myself; I am Gandalf. Gandalf the Grey."

"Oh," I think aloud. _Of course it is..._ trust me to dream up a fantasy land and bring to life a fictional Wizard. Thanks for that, Tolkien. "Good grief," I shrill, staring up at the grey-cloaked giant, "you are a tall one, aren't you?"

The old man laughs down at me kindly, half-hidden behind his long beard.

"I think you'll find, my dear, that you are rather short," he jests. He bends a little lower to get a better look at me, and squints. "I sense you are not from around these parts..." he leans a little closer, so that the rowdy Dwarves in the dining hall, who appear now to be having a belching competition, cannot hear. "Or of this time, I dare say."

"You've got that one right, Dream Wizard," I tell him. "I hope I remember this dream when I wake up, it's very interesting... where are we, then? I still have no idea."

"The Shire," he smiles down at me. "How did you get here?"

"I can't remember," I tell him with a half-attempted smile.

"What exactly are you, if you don't mind my asking? You have the height of a dwarf, but the appearance of the Atani-"

"-The what?"

"...Men, my lady. Humans."

"You've hit the nail on the head right there," I tell him, "I'm human."

"For the sake of the others here, I think it is best if we simply tell them you are a branch of Halfling, perhaps from around the Anduin valleys... I believe we might be able to pass you off as a Fallowhide, what with your complexion and well-proportioned appendages." He looks down to my feet then, presumably gesturing to their regular size. I nod along, having no idea what the old man is taking about. "For now, at least, we may be able to convince the rabble that you are from afar, hence your unusual manner of speaking and dress sense... you are most peculiar, young maiden. What is your name?"

"Lavender," I say, continuing with the name I gave Bilbo earlier; can't break from it now.

"Well, Lady Lavender," Gandalf says to me... _ooh, I rather like the sound of that_. "Perhaps we should join the company of the others; they are quite the merry gathering, once you get used to them."

And with that, I shuffle my way into the packed dining room with the band of excitable Dwarves. A bread roll flies past my head and slams off the wall behind me, causing me to jump out of my skin; a bowl of soup follows it, and I stand there, drenched in the spray of pureed carrots and peas.

"Sorry," calls over a softly-spoken Dwarf with two plaits either side of his chin. I look up at him with hooded eyes, before bursting into a cascade of laughter and sucking some of the soup from my forefinger.

"Don't be," I smirk, taking another step into their company. "It's quite delicious."

As far as dreams go, so far, this is a good one.

**AN: Hurrah! Still not sure whether to carry on or not; let me know what you think, guys, and thanks for the support so far!**


	3. Chapter 3: A Band of Dwarves

**Chapter Three:**

**A Band of Dwarves**

_I shuffle my way into the packed dining room with the band of excitable Dwarves. A bread roll flies past my head and slams off the wall behind me, causing me to jump out of my skin; a bowl of soup follows it, and I stand there, drenched in the spray of pureed carrots and peas._

_"Sorry," calls over a softly-spoken Dwarf with two plaits either side of his chin. I look up at him with hooded eyes, before bursting into a cascade of laughter and sucking some of the soup from my forefinger._

_"Don't be," I smirk, taking another step into their company. "It's quite delicious."_

The others join in my laughter, half of them dizzied already through the amount of ale being sloshed around. The nearest to me, who I remember to be Fili, pushes his younger brother out of his chair much to the surprise of the dark-haired Dwarf.

"Make room for the lady, Kili," he instructs his junior, "where are your manners, boy?"

Kili pulls himself from the floor, at first looking slightly irate, before nodding and throwing me a hint of a smile. I melt for a second, before solidifying and watching as he perches on the corner of the wooden table, now cluttered with cutlery and half-eaten food, and gestures to the empty chair.

"Be my guest."

"Thank you," I smile as I drift into his seat; the Dwarf opposite me tosses a wedge of cheese my way with a slurred greeting which I don't quite catch, and I bite into it gratefully; I'm feeling terribly hungry all of a sudden.

"You'll pardon my asking, but are you sure you're a lady?" the timid young dwarf who threw the soup over me asks, "I know it may seem rude, but-"

"You can't just go around asking ladies if they're sure they're ladies, Ori!" the Dwarf opposite me, a bizarre looking man with a fantastic hat and bread crumbs all around his mouth in a thick Irish accent calls, "I think the maiden will be certain of her gender." He looks to me then, an apologetic expression on his face. "Take no mind of the young'uns, Miss. They have very little knowledge of what women actually look like; Dwarven society is peculiar to folks of your kind. Very few Dwarves are female, and it's rather difficult to distinguish between the two genders in our community."

"Very true, brother," the Dwarf with the plaited orange beard pronounces, wiping his mouth of crumbs, "it takes many years of practice to know a Dwarven lady on sight."

"Because of the beards," Kili calls with a nonchalant grin, one boot perched against the side of my chair as he bites into a huge hunk of meat which might once have belonged to a lamb; by the reaction of the ginger Dwarf, it appears that the pink meat was stolen from his plate.

"Save some for the rest of us, you galumphing git!" the red-head barks, snatching the meat back; Fili smacks his younger brother again with a tutting noise, and takes a handful of nuts from the young Dwarf's plate.

"No manners," Fili mutters, crunching the embezzled nuts loudly, "mother would be mortified."

"How is Dís, lads?" the ginger Dwarf asks, "I haven't seen her in... ooh, it must be fifty years."

"She's well," Kili replies happily.

"Her beard surpasses even yours now, Bombur," Fili adds, stealing more of his brother's nuts.

I turn back to Bofur with a smile after he gently kicks me under the table to get my attention.

"Our ladies are mostly nameless and keep to the mountains," he continues to explain, quieter now, "most Dwarves never marry or have children. Less than a third of us, in fact."

"Why's that?" I ask, intrigued. Even though it's all in my head, it's vibrantly interesting.

"Most of us aren't bothered by it," Bofur admitted, "far too much hassle, would rather keep to our trades. Mining is far more fulfilling than pursuing a relationship.. and Dwarvish women are notoriously hard to please."

The others around our end of the table murmur in agreement.

"Fetch us another drink, girly," Dwalin demands, cutting the conversation short; this sets off a sort of chain reaction, and suddenly I am bombarded with a list of orders from ale to liquor-infused ewe's milk.

"Give the girl a break, Dwalin!" another Dwarf with a starfish-shaped beard laughs, "she has only just sat herself down, for Durin's sake."

"_'The Girl'_ does have a name," I correct the pair lightly.

"And what might that be, young lady?" Kili asks, draining the last dregs of his beer and re-filling his tumbler from the keg.

"Lavender," I tell him; I'm starting to think the whole lying-about-my-name thing maybe wasn't the best idea. This dream is going on far longer than I expected...

...I'm finding now that I don't want it to end.

_"Lav. en .der,"_ he repeats, enunciating each syllable, "that's ...unusual."

Just then, Fili snatches his tankard from him and sticks his rosy nose against the lip of the cup.

"You oughtn't be drinking that at your age," Fili scalds him, cascading the beer down his own neck until he is slurping loudly at it's dregs.

"I'm only five years younger than you," Kili scalds his brother, "I think I can handle a beer or two. Besides, I hold my drink better than you ever will."

"Oh, I do love how you _jest,_ little brother. Nori, pass me a flagon, we shall see how long it takes to drink the boy under the table!"

"Please, get _off_ the table!" Bilbo calls to Kili, shooing him out of his makeshift seat, "the table-top is for eating from, not sitting on, get down from there!"

With hands raised in surrender the young Dwarf slips from the table top and disappears to find a new chair.

"Not that one, that's Grandpa Mungo's chair, it's an antique, not for sitting on; And where is that smell coming from?! Is that the bathroom?!"

"The meat doesn't sit well with Oin," Bombur jests, and the table erupts with laughter.

Bilbo, mortified, shakes his head and scurries back into the doorway desperately.

"Gandalf, can you please tell that red-haired Dwarf in the kitchen not to use my books as coasters!? And for Gods sake, please, you with the beard- no not you, _you-_ please stop using the curtains as handkerchiefs!"

"You won't get a word out of him, Mr. Boggins," Bofur calls to the Hobbit, "my cousin only speaks in Dwarvish, I'm afraid. This is the first time old Bifur has ever left the mountains."

"It's _Baggins,_ not Boggins-"

I notice that the Dwarf Bofur was speaking of has an axe head embedded into his forid. I purse my lips to ask about it, before Bombur interrupts.

"Would you be able to grab us another ale now, please, Miss Lavender?" he calls, rolling his tumbler glass across the table to me; it misses and smashes onto the floor, relieving a burst of hearty laughter from the band of Dwarves, half of whom are already well on their way to becoming drunk.

"...I'm not actually the barmaid, you know that, right?" I say to the surrounding company, and Bombur lets out another laugh.

"Of course not, my dear. I think Nori is after an ale, too-"

"...Yeah sure... but you're all aware that I don't actually work here? I don't mind getting everyone drinks, it's just..."

The table goes quiet, the laughter dying.

"...Do you not?"

"No," I inform them all with a light laugh. Bofur looks amazed.

"Then what is a lady doing around these parts so late-?"

"Lady Lavender is a visitor here, like the rest of you," Gandalf explains, "a Halfling from afar."

_"Halfling?"_ Balin questions, wiping his mouth with the back of his greasy hand, "I suspected the lady had a little Dwarf in her somewhere... she is taller than any Hobbit I have come across in all my years. I doubt my own height would exceed hers."

"Lighter complexion," another adds, "the ears and feet on her are less prominent, too."

"I'd have said Elf," Kili intrudes with a raised eyebrow, seeking involvement in the conversation somehow, and those around the table mutter condescendingly. I get the feeling that he has a habit of trying to fit in a comment somewhere in all conversations by the way the others mutter.

_Oh, so now there are elves too,_ I think, mutely aware of the Dwarves murmuring phrases such as _'sit down, boy', 'Your uncle would have a heart attack,' 'bloody Elves'_ and _'filthy, useless traitors'._

"And what would you know of it, little brother?" Fili teases, "have you ever even_ seen_ an Elf?"

"Have _you?"_ Kili rebukes him, and his older brother turns surprisingly quiet. Kili smirks to himself and his brother stands, beckoning his sibling through to collect more alcohol; the two carry through a new keg of liquid which is met with much cheer, and any interest in my heritage is swiftly forgotten.

"Red wine for the lady?" Nori offers, "it has a rather floral bouquet. Most enticing."

"Go on, then," I smile, accepting the red liquid gratefully. I'm not a big drinker, but what the heck; might as well treat myself. The wine tastes like purple fire. I wonder when I'll be waking up... this is starting to feel strangely _real_ for a dream.

Bilbo disappears into the foyer with the old Wizard, ranting and raving over the state of his house; not that I can blame him.

"Look at the state of my kitchen!" he yells, "there's mud trod into the carpet, they've practically pillaged the pantry... I won't even begin to tell you what they've done in the bathroom, they've all but destroyed the plumbing-!"

"Excuse me," the gentle young Dwarf, Ori, asks him politely, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?"

Fili, who is now crossing through the corridor, swings his head around the side of the door and yanks the plate from the skittish Dwarf's grip.

"Here you go, Ori. Give it to me- Kili, up on your feet!"

"Aye aye," Kili calls, heading to the doorway with his pipe between his lips in an overly excited manner and catching the disc as it is flung his way. The two started a chain gang, tossing the delicate china left and right; I practically duck under the table to avoid the flying cutlery. Meanwhile, Bilbo is in hysterics, and not the good kind.

"Put it back, be _careful!_ Excuse me, but that is my mother's West Farthing pottery, it's over 100 years old-!"

"Miss Lavender," Bofur calls in his thick accent from across the counter to me, "what are you doing, Lass? Bring yourself up from underneath the table and join in the festivities."

Cautiously I do so to find the gregarious Dwarf grinning at me, a knife and fork primed in his hands; he gestures for me to grab my own, and leads the table in a cutlery dance that takes me quite a while to get to grips with; _stamp stamp, cross cross, stamp stamp, cross cross. _Who ever knew there was so much fun to be had with a knife and fork?

"Can you not do that, please?!" calls Bilbo's tetchy voice from the hall; reluctantly I go to stop, but Bofur kicks me under the table and encourages me to go on. I do so gleefully. Bilbo appears in the doorway then, ducking away from a flying bowl and yells, "you'll blunt them!"

"Ooh! Did you hear that, Lads?!" Bofur calls merrily, throwing me a grinning wink. "He says we'll blunt the knives."

And that's when the singing started... Kili first.

_"Blunt the knives and bend the forks!"_

Followed by Fili, naturally. _"Smash the bottles and burn the corks!"_

And suddenly, it was like being on Dwarf Broadway; Bofur produces a flute from the inside of his leather coat, and each and every member of the company began to sing or hum along, all of them helping to stack the used plates and bowls. Forks fly, flagons fall, and all the while the band of Dwarves sing along merrily. I hum along as best I can, captivated by their merriment and skill.

_"Chip the glasses and crack the plates,_

_That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!_

_Cut the cloth and tread the fat,_

_Leave the bones on the bedroom mat,_

_Pour the milk on the pantry floor,_

_Splash the wine on every door!_

_Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl,_

_Pound them up with a thumping pole,_

_And when you've finished, if they any are whole,_

_Send them down the hall to roll!_

_That's what Bilbo Baggins hates,_

_So, carefully! Carefully with the plates!"_

When they are finished, the entire assembly erupt with raucous laughter. I had found myself humming along and laughing as the Dwarves performed their elaborate tune, stacking the used cutlery in an outstanding fashion as they went. I grin, astounded by the speed with which they were able to clean up.

"I'm not even going to question how you managed that... or how you all sang in sync," I smile across the table, and Bofur hollers another manic laugh; Bilbo stands the opposite side of the expanse, a look between horror and relief transferred onto his gentle face. I look to the others to see Kili bent double, tears in his eyes through laughter, his pipe directed whimsically at the Hobbit.

"Aww, look at him-!"

As his comment deteriorates amongst the mirth of the others, there is another sharp knock at the door; it sounds somehow unfriendly. The happy atmosphere evaporates like morning dew on a waxy leaf, and the Dwarves lower their heads. Gandalf looks around the company, sucking softly on his pipe.

"He is here."

**AN: Enter Thorin!**

**Thorin is badass. 'Nuff said.**

******I'll be using Tolkein's songs throughout, from both LOTR and The Hobbit, but I'll be using the versions from the books as opposed to the movies, because I prefer those (for all but 'that's what Bilbo Baggins hates'; just added the final line to that one ;D)**

**I've been working hard to get more written; there's quite a bit, now. I'll get all that uploaded over the next few days and then make the decision as to whether to carry on or not based on how many people are following and want it to go through, etc. ****Thank you so much for all the support so far, guys! **


	4. Chapter 4: The Would-Be King

_**AN: Before we start the next chapter, let me just say a big fat-ass THANK YOU to everyone who has followed the story over the last couple of days- I can't believe we've got 40 followers already! I'd go through and send all you new folks thank you messages as I usually do, but I can't remember who is new and who isn't by name, so here it is, guys; THANK YOU! If any of you have any questions, etc, that you would like answering, let me know and I'll answer them all, along with those already asked, in the bottom AN of the next chapter. Hope you enjoy this one!**_

**Chapter Four:**

**The Would-Be King**

_There is another knock at the door; it sounds somehow unfriendly. The happy atmosphere evaporates like morning dew on a waxy leaf, and the Dwarves lower their heads. Gandalf looks around the company, sucking softly on his pipe._

_"He is here."_

Bofur looks positively disappointed, his hat and braids even seeming to droop.

"Well, there puts an end to the night's craic," he muses, setting his knife and fork neatly down on the table. "Brush yourselves up, Lads; Kili, wipe your mouth, and for Gods sake, Fili, get that sauce out of your beard! I doubt your uncle will want to see the pair of you looking like you have just sprang up out of a pig sty."

_Uncle,_ I note; whoever has just arrived is a relative of the two brothers. If he's related to this pair, he's bound to be a laugh. Unfortunately, the solemn reactions of the previously bonny Dwarves would say otherwise. I dwindle in the silence a moment longer before humming,

"So, uh... _who_ is it?"

All but Bilbo look at me as though I am the densest creature on the planet.

"Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór," Bombur proclaims. "Our Would-Be King."

"He _is_ our King," Balin interrupts, "crown or not. We best not keep him waiting any longer; after the journey he has had, I doubt he will be in the most patient of moods."

"He's never in the most patient of moods," Fili mutters with a smile, absently straightening his younger brother's cloak as to make him presentable.

Bilbo stands to head for the door, utterly defeated by the influx of maddening guests, but Bombur, with his impressive necklace of a braided beard, raises an arm to stop him.

"Hold up there, Lad. Our Thorin is not as keen on Hobbits and the like as he is on our own kind... a new face might irritate his disposition. I shall go to the door."

"No," Kili proclaims, jumping to his feet with a little too much enthusiasm, "I shall go."

"Sit, brother," Fili offers, "I will answer it-"

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Gandalf booms, "I shall go, and I'll hear no more of it."

The Wizard stood and made for the hallway; as he moved, the rest of the Dwarven party stood. Naturally, I go to follow.

"Hang on a moment," Fili advised, his hand across my shoulder, "I think it best if you stay here with Mr. Baggins."

"Why?" I ask, as Kili hurries excitedly past me to the hallway.

"Uncle Thorin is not the most hospitable of our kind. I feel your unexpected presence might grate on him a little, particularly given your... _muliebrity._ Perhaps it is best if you hide in the kitchen, prepare him a drink, perhaps-"

"Slow down there, sonny boy," I scald him, "the_ kitchen?!_ If has a problem with me being a woman, he's just going to have to deal with it."

Fili purses his lips to speak, but then shakes his head hopelessly and goes to meet the others in the hallway. Bilbo follows through moments later, fussing about the newest of the group possibly using the glory box as a doormat in the same way that Kili had. I sit down at the head of the table, alone for all but a discarded glass of wine. Trying not to think of who might have been sipping on it before and the subsequent crumbs and oils which may have been caught within the beard of said Dwarf, I swig down the rest of the glass, washing away my nerves behind the mask of the floral alcohol and reminding myself that none of this is real... _none of it can be real. _

It is then that I am introduced to one of the most misogynistic, jingoistic and down-right brilliant men I have, or probably ever will meet in all my life. Thorin Oakenshield is a masterpiece; nothing more, nothing less, make no mistake. He walks into the tiny room, all oil-black hair and brooding eyes, long hooked nose and forehead, and he fills it with his sheer... _Thorin-ness._ I've never seen someone fill a room like that before, just bring the atmosphere to it's knees with his stride and a gloomy glance.

_Lots and lots of forehead,_ I note. _And lots of nose._

He glares at me, the shock in his face at a woman being present shining clearly through his cool, handsome visage. With a voice that sounds like gravel tumbling in a blender he says,

"There appears to be a girl in my seat."

_Girl,_ I note. That doesn't sit well with me; it suggests with all immediacy that he thinks himself above the likes of me. Perhaps he is... _well, he certainly is. Just look at him, he's down-right majestic._ I stare blankly, utterly deflated and utterly intimidated, and in utter awe.

That is when I notice Kili. He stands to the side of the aggressive Dwarf, a look of sheer horror on his face_... Damn, he has a nice face. _But what he's doing with his face snaps me out of my day dream (night-dream? Dream within a dream? Give me the kick, Arthur-)

_Move,_ Kili mimes, dark eyes wide and pleading. _Get out of his seat. Now._

I look to the other side of the would-be King, to find that his tawny brother is standing with the same horrified expression, shaking his head wildly. Their faces hold the suggestion that if I do not get out of the seat that all-mighty Thorin has claimed as his own within the next two seconds, the stern-looking Dwarf before me will bite my head off; _literally,_ I wouldn't be surprised. And so I stand... and like a fool, do the one thing that any sane person would completely avoid doing.

I smile.

Thorin Oakenshield frowns like thunder.

_So much for good first impressions._

The Dwarf shakes his head and moves around the head of the table where I was sat; like prey being circled I move in the opposite direction, and take Fili's initial advice by hiding away in the kitchen. _Way to stand up for women's rights there, Alice..._

_Lavender, _I remind myself. I wonder how long it will take until my real name slips from my lips.

...Did I just make a rhyme?

I sit alone in the kitchen, burying myself in my shame, and sip away on more of the fruity wine that Dori acquired earlier. It tastes better and better with every sip. Bilbo's pantry has been stripped to the bone, all but a sprig of grapes, which I find I cannot help but munch on, peeling back their papery skins and scraping at the fruit inside with my front teeth. After twenty minutes or so of listening to the Dwarven clan, the old Wizard and the tiny Hobbit ramble on about some imaginary quest involving dungeons and dragons and caverns and cavalcades, I find that my confidence has been boosted enough by the robust liquor to make my re-entrance. I do so, this time ignoring the disdained stare from the leader of the Dwarven group, and reclaim my seat beside Fili. _I dreamed you up, Mr. Oakenshield,_ I think in my head._ I made this kitchen, this chair, and if I want to sit down in it, dear subconscious Dwarven ruler, I'll bloody well do so._

Kili sits the other side of his brother, and whispers something in his senior's ear. Fili, who has clearly drank more than enough himself, turns his gaze to me with sanguine cheeks and bares me a wry, wine-induced grin. Between the pair of us, we smell thickly enough of alcohol to pollute the space between our faces to a rancid level.

"My brother," he begins quietly, leaning close to my face,"is wondering whether or not the young lady is drunk."

"Well," I drawl, throwing him a lazy smile, "you can tell that beardless brother of yours that I am certainly not drunk. I may have had a drop or two, but... well, yes. I might have had a little too much."

"A lady ought not be drinking in such a manner," Fili says, taking my own cup from me and downing its contents much in the same way he did to his younger brother before heaving out a long belch; the others join in, and whilst they are distracted, I snatch the closest mug to me and shimmer the thick liquid down my throat.

"You'll be under the table before the night is out," Kili calls over to me, face hidden behind his own tankard and a smirk playing in his eyes. I raise an eyebrow and return the half-attempt at a smile.

"Care to join me?" I say, raising my glass; the vague thought crosses my mind that that may in some way have been interpreted as suggestive, and I grimace. "I'll be waking up soon enough," I tell him quietly. "Don't you worry about me."

There is more talk of quests and dragons and mountains and contracts, which I completely blank over due to the fact that my head has begun to pound wildly and it's all a lot of imaginary hogwash anyway.

"Oin has read the portents, and the portents say it is time. Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain, as it was foretold; _'When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end.'"_

Bilbo seems startled. "Uh... what beast?"

Bofur grins broadly. "Well, that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our age. Airborne fire-breather. Teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks... extremely fond of precious metals-"

"Yes," Bilbo intrudes, "I know what a dragon is."

I make a tiny amused huffing sound, and one of two of the Dwarves direct their attention to me for a moment; I wave them away with an expression which I imagine to say, 'oh, don't mind me, I'm just along for the ride', before Ori jumps from his seat and proclaims loudly,

"I'm not afraid, I'm up for it! I'll give him a taste of Dwarfish iron right up his jacksie-!"

"Good lad, Ori!"

"Sit down, boy!"

I zone out again, the pounding in my head heightened by the proclamations of the Dwarves. When I look up again, I find that Bilbo Baggins has fallen to the floor unconscious.

"Alright, own up; which one of you scratched the china?" I muse drunkenly, and notice that the sour-faced Thorin is looking even more sour-faced than usual.

"Was it you, Nose?" I say jokingly through my intoxication; Thorin stares back, the frustration clear in the way he holds himself, knuckles curled on the table before him. I give a drunken giggle and call, "oh, lighten up, your highness... holiness... whatever you are."

"Forgive the lady," Balin says to his superior, feigning a laugh, "I think the Hobbit's wine has started to take it's toll on her."

"That is right," I say, lurching myself upwards and heading back towards the kitchen, "I apologize, _my liege._ Would his royal highness and his loyal subjects like a cup of tea as an apology for my boisterous behavior? I'll make my special tea... my specialty. Special... tea."

Thorin gives a sharp, disinterested nod, and gestures down to the unconscious Bilbo. I wander into the kitchen with an exaggerated bow, and try to figure out how on earth I'm supposed to make tea out of the ingredients left in Bilbo's house... also, there is no kettle. Hot-water-over-the-fireplace is a little too old school for me... I grimace hopelessly again, returning with no tea and a rushed apology.

"Perhaps we should revive the Hobbit," Thorin suggests, ignoring me, "he cannot sign the contract in such a state, after all."

I barely register the word _'contract'_ in my inept state, but am aware of Bilbo being carried through to the living room by the bald-headed Dwalin, and the rest of us follow suit. The tiny sitting room is as equally beautiful as the rest of the house, draped in rich plum-coloured velvet and dotted with dark mahogany furniture. Tiny rich candles sit like pomegranates dotted across the tables, and vials of incense sit huddled in the welts of the windowsills, dark red jewels bringing a musty smell in amongst the heavy scent of the pipe smoke which has been floating around the house ever since the party arrived. I sit in the corner, my head against the cushioned wall drowsily, as a few of the others discuss something with the Hobbit.

Ori, one of the youngest in the company, crouches beside the fireplace and sets the coals alight with a tuft of hair cut from Bombur's mountainous beard. I am bequeathed a tiny stool to sit upon, pushed to the corner and as far from the brooding Dwarf King as possible; I find, regardless, that I can't take my eyes off him. The Dwarves gather around, all having left the cold of the dining hall, and light their ornate pipes. Sat to my left, the two young brothers puff away on theirs, and the eldest notices me watching; he offers me the pipe, and I reject it politely. By the looks of a couple of these Dwarves and the look on Thorin's now softened face, I doubt it's just tobacco they're smoking.

And then, their solemn leader begins to sing. Quite wonderfully, I might add.

_Yep,_ I think. _They're definitely smoking grass if tight-ass over there is loosening up._

The music is haunting, beautiful, and soothes my aching head beyond measure; or perhaps it's the smoke that's doing it. Either way, as I lie back and listen to their enchanting, sleep-inducing song, my concentration on the ache in my skull lulls, and I feel my eyes begin to close.

_"Far over the misty mountains cold_

_To dungeons deep and caverns old_

_We must away ere break of day_

_To seek the pale enchanted gold._

_The Dwarves of yore made mighty spells,_

_While hammers fell like ringing bells_

_In places deep, where dark things sleep,_

_In hollow halls beneath the fells._

_For ancient king and elvish lord_

_There many a gloaming golden hoard_

_They shaped and wrought, and light they caught_

_To hide in gems on hilt of sword._

_On silver necklaces they strung_

_The flowering stars, on crowns they hung_

_The dragon-fire, in twisted wire_

_They meshed the light of moon and sun._

_Far over the misty mountains cold_

_To dungeons deep and caverns old_

_We must away, ere break of day,_

_To claim our long-forgotten gold._

_Goblets they carved there for themselves_

_And harps of gold; where no man delves_

_There lay they long, and many a song_

_Was sung unheard by men or elves._

_The pines were roaring on the height,_

_The winds were moaning in the night._

_The fire was red, it flaming spread;_

_The trees like torches biased with light,_

_The bells were ringing in the dale_

_And men looked up with faces pale;_

_The dragon's ire more fierce than fire_

_Laid low their towers and houses frail._

_The mountain smoked beneath the moon;_

_The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom._

_They fled their hall to dying -fall_

_Beneath his feet, beneath the moon._

_Far over the misty mountains grim_

_To dungeons deep and caverns dim_

_We must away, ere break of day,_

_To win our harps and gold from him."_

I'm not sure if the song actually ends there, or if my senses are so inhibited by the wine, the smoke and the singing that that I can no longer hear it. The sudden pull to sleep hauls me in by my navel like an anchor...

**~oOo~**

...and suddenly I am awake. Like, _actually_ awake. My eyes snap open, that horrid hypnic jerk falling feeling washing over me. It causes my heart to race, my breath to quicken, and I find myself snapping up straight in my own bed. I sit up and stare into the darkness, making out the outlines of my vanity desk and wardrobe, my television and bookcase. I feel a sudden longing for that lost dream, the madness of it... I remember it vividly, far more vividly than I've ever remembered a dream before; names, faces, places. Bilbo, Kili, the Shire. But more potently, I find that my head is burning with a horrid, hollow sensation. My fingers are tingling, and it feels as though my brain is bashing across the inside of my head despite the fact that I'm not moving...

_...Have I got a hangover?_

**AN: Oh yeahh. First modern-world bits and bobs come in ;D**

**What did you think of the chappie, guys? Let me know, can't wait to hear from you!**

**Ooh, and one more thing; who are your faves out of the Dwarves? Just curious... mine are Kili, Fili, Thorin and Bofur, which is why they naturally get the most screen time (page-time? idk) XD Let's put it to a vote- who is the best Dwarf?**

**And remember, any questions, just ask!**

**-Wiza x**


	5. Chapter 5: The Impossible Hangover

_**AN: O****h my Durin, ORI! I totally forgot Ori in my list of faves... he is so precious :3 I want my own Ori to serve my tea, make me cake and read me bedtime stories. Anyone with me on that one?**_

**Chapter Five:**

**The Impossible Hangover**

_I am awake. Like, actually awake. My eyes snap open, that horrid hypnic jerk falling feeling washing over me. It causes my heart to race, my breath to quicken, and I find myself snapping up straight in my own bed. I sit up and stare into the darkness, making out the outlines of my vanity desk and wardrobe, my television and bookcase. I feel a sudden longing for that lost dream, the madness of it... I remember it vividly, far more vividly than I've ever remembered a dream before; names, faces, places. Bilbo, Kili, the Shire. But more potently, I find that my head is burning with a horrid, hollow sensation. My fingers are tingling, and it feels as though my brain is bashing across the inside of my head despite the fact that I'm not moving..._

_...Have I got a hangover?_

_Not possible,_ I tell myself. I don't really drink, not in real life, and I spent all of the evening before I went to bed huddled on the sofa with my Ma, my pets, a bag of Jelly Babies and my head buried morosely in an open textbook. No drinking there, unless my mother decided to spike my hot chocolate.

_This is your brain playing some sick psychological joke on you, _I reassure myself._ You've been dreaming about drinking, you're head's just muddled... gulp down a glass of water and a couple of paracetamol, and you'll be fine._

So that is what I do. I glug down my tap water, give my excitable puppy a pat on the head and creep back past my Ma's room before hauling myself back under the covers and closing my eyes. I lie there still for a long time, curling myself into a ball and mentally reading myself to sleep, teasing back the dream I had been having. My mind drifts to those bloody stupid sheep, scampering after me down that bumpy pebble path, and without warning I feel that lurching feeling of falling again, and I'm sitting right back up...

**~oOo~**

...As I do, my head makes contact with something hard and warm, and I fall right back down with a loud, agonised cry.

I open my watering eyes to find the young beardless Dwarf from my previous dream, Kili, kneeling beside me and holding his head in his hands, murmuring what must be cursing in some angry-sounding language I don't understand.

"Oh, not you again!" I yell, exasperated and in pain, "what the hell is going on-?!"

"You just smacked me in the head!" Kili shrieks, scampering to his feet, "bless the might of Durin, that _hurt,_ woman-"

"Defeated already, are we?" teases Fili, laughing as he helps his brother up and then turns his assistance to me, "perhaps you should be more gentle when waking sleeping maidens, brother. If I were Miss Lavender, I too would have jumped out of my skin at the mere sight of you."

"Sorry," I mumble to the youngest Dwarf, taking the arm of the blonde brother as he helps me back onto the stool from which I have fallen, "sorry, Fili- or Kili or... whichever one you are."

"Kili," the darker Dwarf reminds me with a flash of that smile, "I'm Kili, he's Fili-"

"That's right, yeah." _Stupid names anyway,_ I think as I regain my composure, standing straight... only to realize that I am once again in the drawing room of the Hobbit's home, surrounded by the battalion of bemused-looking dwarves, all of whom stare at me now with looks mixed between horror and amusement.

This isn't right. This doesn't happen in dreams... it just _doesn't happen._ Everything is exactly the same; _everything._ The stern look on Thorin's marble face. The deep-throated chuckle of Fili. The plush velvet curtains, the marvellous array of beards and the tiny pomegranate lights. I remember every little detail vividly, right down to the feel of the fabric covering the stool which I now sit on.

_This isn't how dreams work._

"How is this happening?" I say to myself more than to those surrounding me; this just isn't right. "This all feels so real..."

"I think the lady might have hit her head a little harder than we first suspected," Balin smiles kindly, "perhaps rest is the best thing for her."

"Nonsense," Fili insists, "Kili's head is not _that_ hollow... come, Miss. There is a reason we woke you in the first place; the old Wizard would like to speak with you. Kili will show you the way; won't you, brother?"

_Well, if anyone around here can help me to figure out what's going on, it's the fictional Wizard, I suppose._

I follow Kili, who now has a raised pink bump on his forehead, through the winding corridors of the Hobbit's hole.

"I really am sorry about your forehead," I tell him, and he turns to me with a crooked smile.

"I have suffered far worse than a mere bump, Miss. I think I can survive this one... and I am sorry about your head, too. I didn't mean to give you a fright when I woke you."

"It's not that," I say, reaching up and feeling the middle of my forid; it hurts, like a normal bruise. _Is that even possible? Can you feel pain in dreams?_

_Jesus..._ I think I could probably do with a little more of that fruity wine.

"I sprang up because I had that funny falling feeling," I tell Kili, "you know what I mean?"

"I think so," he says, then nocks once on the door to what I presume to be the study, and the soft voice of the elderly Wizard calls me in.

"Do you know what he wants?" I whisper to the young Dwarf, who shrugs his left shoulder high and whispers back,

"Good luck."

He leaves me then, his light footsteps disappearing back into the laughter of the softly-lit, smoke-filled sitting room.

I open the door and step inside, sitting down opposite the kindly Wizard. _He's not real,_ I remind myself, despite my utter confusion at the peculiarities surrounding my dream state. _It's all in your head._

"Miss Lavender," Gandalf begins, handing me over a warm cup of what looks to be malt tea, "I wonder if you might be able to tell me more about how exactly it was you got here."

"I went to bed," I tell the man nonchalantly, sinking into the warm comfort of my armchair, "and then I was walking down that path out there, just like a normal dream. Then those freakishly large sheep turned up and I knocked down poor old Bilbo's door to escape them." I lean in closer to the aging Wizard, speaking now out of the corner of my mouth like a villain in a noir film. "Next thing I know, I'm dining with that band of wackos out there, and then there was that lovely singing... and then I fell asleep. And woke up. Does that make any sense to you, Wiz?"

By the look of the face of the Wizard, it does not.

"Well, that's what happened," I explain to him. "I was back at home. With a hang over, I might add... I'm just glad I took those paracetamol. Then I fell asleep again, and here I am. Back in this dream."

The old man nods. "And you believe this to be a dream, nothing more."

"Well of course it's a dream," I tell him with a delirious smile, not entirely believing it myself. "I'm asleep, and you are all projections of my subconscious... it's all quite simple, really."

_No it isn't._

"You fell asleep in your world, and woke up here?"

I nod.

"And sleeping here lead to your awakening in your home realm."

"Don't you do that psycho-mumbo-jumbo on me, Gandalf," I warn the Wizard, "I'm confused enough as it is. I'll just go with the flow, then wake up tomorrow and carry on with my life. Everything will be fine."

He does not look convinced. "Lady Lavender, there is a definite possibility that you are, in fact, insane..."

"No. I'm not... I'm fine. You people are the crazy ones." Inside my head, I begin to majorly freak out. And suddenly, I find I am laughing, and rather hysterically. "I am not about to sit here and talk with a projection of my own subconscious-"

"...Or you could be telling the truth."

I stop then, and look up at the bearded man.

"Your dress, your mannerisms... they are not of Middle Earth, Lavender. They are foreign, alien... I believe that there may be something here going on beyond dreams and madness."

Utterly defeated by the bizarre nature of it all, I nod along; _let him talk,_ I think._ I'll be awake soon enough, and this will all be over._

"Perhaps this _is_ all just a dream," Gandalf says, and it is more than clear from his tone that he is humouring me; _look at this. My own subconscious, laughing at me behind my back. _"In which case none of this is real, and your normal life shall resume when you awake, as you predict. But if there is more, I would like to learn as much about it as possible. You are truly fascinating."

"Thank you," I say half-heartedly, gulping down the malt mixture; it manages somehow to soothe my aching head.

"If all of this _is_ real-" again with the condescending tone- "I know many people who would be interested in hearing of your case, in meeting you. How would you feel about that?"

I just smile along with it. "Sure," I say, raising my hands to the ceiling, care-free. "Whatever you say, Mr. Wizard man. I'm open to all your suggestions."

"Good. But you also know that if this is a more prolonged adventure than you believe at this time, you cannot stay alone in this hobbit hole; when morning comes, we are leaving this place."

"So am I," I tell him, and the Wizard laughs, _(presumably)_ at my wit. Or maybe he just thinks I'm a loony.

"...Yes. But presuming for a moment that _I_ am right, you shall still be here. In which case, I would like to ask you to accompany my unusual band of friends and I on an adventure. I plan on meeting with some older, wiser friends than myself in a place called Rivendell at some point on our quest, who shall, should you still be with us by morning, most certainly know what to do with you. They will be able to decipher what is happening to you, should you choose to come with me; you can stay there, with the Elven kind. They will be very kind to you, I am certain."

The laughing starts again; this is insane. Bizarre. Utterly flabbergasting... I never knew I had such a vivid imagination.

"Why not?" I smirk, "sure thing. You are _Gandalf,_ after all. If anyone knows what they're taking about around here, it's going to be you... do you think I could dream up a Dumbledore, as well?"

He ignores my comment and continues, "So you will join us?"

I smile again. "I would love to, dear Gandalf."

He looks satisfied. "I will take that as consent. Now comes the small matter of convincing Thorin Oakenshield to allow your presence on our quest."

_Quest,_ I recite mentally. _That sounds important._

I smile, standing from my warm chair and heading for the door by the Wizard's instruction. "You might have a little difficulty with that... I don't think he's my biggest fan, to be honest. Not after the whole _that-girl-is-sitting-in-my-chair_ thing."

"I will find a way to convince him that your company is worth having," Gandalf reassures me, and I give him half-hearted thanks as I head back to the living room, sleep the only thing on my mind. That malt drink has got me sleepier than a baby lamb, and the paracetamol I took when awake seems to be soothing the effects of the alcohol, even if only a psychological defect. I drift over to the nearest armchair and fall into it, wishing now for nothing more than to just wake up and leave this madness behind me; I've had quite enough of Wizards, Hobbits and Dwarves for one lifetime...

But then Kili comes into the room from the kitchen, nursing a tall glass of what looks to be that sweet, sweet wine from earlier.

...Well, maybe not _all_ Wizards, Hobbits and Dwarves.

**AN: There is going to be so much Kili next chapter... I'm a happy bunny.****  
**


	6. Chapter 6: A Letter To The Ground

_**AN: This one's short, but it's all Kili... and then, my pretties, the real fun begins.**_

_**See you on the other side!**_

**Chapter Six:**

**A Letter to The Ground**

_I've had quite enough of Wizards, Hobbits and Dwarves for one lifetime..._

_But then Kili comes into the room from the kitchen, nursing a tall glass of what looks to be that sweet, sweet wine from earlier._

_...Well, maybe not all Wizards, Hobbits and Dwarves._

He pauses upon seeing me, seemingly unsure of where to sit himself down. It takes me a moment to realize that, once again, I have taken someone else's seat.

The polite thing to do, of course, would be to move; however, I'm not feeling very polite tonight.

"I'm not moving for anyone else ever again," I tell him with a smile, leaning my head back against the soft velvet padding of the armchair. "This is my dream, and I'll sit where I want. Unless it's got your name on it, Kili, you can piss off and sit on the floor... unless you give me that wine. I could do with a drink, the day I'm having."

By some miracle, Kili obliges, and I reluctantly surrender the seat, guzzling down as much of the wine as I can in the hopes that it will send me to sleep quicker, and maybe I'll be able to wake up and forget all this madness. I sit on the arm of what is now his chair, watching the now quiet sea of Dwarves as they chew on their roll-up cigars and smoke their musty pipes. Slowly, the members of the group begin to fall asleep; Bilbo patters away to bed, and the almighty Thorin himself disappears; probably off discussing whether or not I should be allowed to travel with his band of merry men on this imaginary _'quest'._

I laugh aloud to myself. _Good luck with that, dear old Gandalf. You're gonna need it._

"What is it?" Kili asks quietly, himself on a drunken downer now from the earlier consumption of alcohol we all engaged in. He looks barely awake; despite this, he still sips from a half-filled tankard of what smells like fermenting beer, and a half-eaten chicken leg in the other hand.

"Oh, nothing," I say, my head against the spine of the chair's arm. "Just thinking about how wack this all is... how are you, Kili?"

"I'm well," he says, "but I do wish you'd stop saying my name like that. It's Kili."

"That's what I said," I reason, "Kili."

"No," he beams, "you've been saying _'Keeley'_ and _'Feeley'._ It's _'I',_ not _'E'."_

_"Kili,"_ I say, trying to get the pronunciation right, with an _'I'_ as in... Igloo, or... Iggle Piggle." I look over to him with a smirk and say, "Maka Packa. The Ninky Nonks. Tombiliboos. Ha-_hoooo."_

"...What are you talking about?"

"...Never mind, Kili," I reassure him. I make sure to pronounce his name correctly, and he smiles in response. "I'm just off on one."

"Do you do that often?"

"Quite often, yeah."

"You have a most unusual way about you," he says in that voice which seems an octave too deep to match his face, smirking a little out of the corner of his mouth. "Unlike any other character I have met in all my years."

"And you're dressed like a reject of the Village People, so you can sit down, sonny boy."

"...I am sat down."

I shrug with a smile, not having expected him to understand.

"So... what year is it, Kili?"

"You don't know?"

"I'm from very far away. Very, very far away."

"Alright... It's the two-thousandth, nine-hundred and forty-first year of the third age."

I laugh aloud. "Of course it is."

"Lady Lavender?"

"Oh..." I giggle with a hiccup, the paracetamol not yet having cured me completely, "that's me, isn't it."

He hides a smile behind his gloved hand. "My brother thinks you're hilarious. My uncle; he just thinks you're mad."

"And what do you think?"

"...I do believe you are quite drunk."

I shrug. "Probably all three."

"Your dress is most unusual," he notes, gesturing to my vibrant trousers, "very colourful. I've been wondering what the marks across the front of your garments mean, across your- uh- chest. I can't read them; they are foreign runes. Are they written in the language of your people?"

I look down at my shirt front, remembering the ice cube character and the horrifically cheesy logo.

"...Yes," I lie. "The, uh... language... of my... people. Yeah, sounds about right."

"And what language is that?"

_Stop this, dude,_ I think absently... there are only so many lies I can weave before I deterriorate into a big, gooey mess. Here comes word vomit.

"Vulcan," I say.

It takes all the strength I have not to bury my face in my palm and weep at my own stupidity.

"Vulcan?"

"...Yes."

"I've never heard of it."

"Very few people speak it," I lie. "Not even we Vulcans speak it. It is a sacred language... like... Welsh, or Latin."

"I've never heard of those, either."

"Well of course you haven't, no one speaks them."

"So you are a Vulcan, then? That's not a race I have heard of. I said you weren't a hobbit."

I swallow hard. _Why, Alice? Of all the things you could possibly have said, why on Earth did you tell him you were a Vulcan?!_

"...Yes. I am a Vulcan. We're a type of Hobbit." The word vomit is about to come up again; I try to swallow it back, but it's no use; I find myself creating the subsequent hand gesture and calling out,

"Live long and Prosper."

_Stop it, Alice._

"...What was that?"

"That's uh... a blessing, in the Vulcan community. That's what my top says."

_Stop. Say something else, anything. Just stop with the Star Treck lies._

Kili watches me, obviously noting my confused state, and I turn so that I can get a good look at his face...

_And what a delicious face it is._

"Good grief," I say, dizzy from my delirium and trying desperatley to find a new path to lead the conversation on, "you are attractive, aren't you? I mean, that brother of yours isn't bad, but you're a different story all together. I don't normally go for guys with Disney princess hair, but God damn, son, you're fresh out of a L'Oreal advert, aren't you? And those cheekbones... Irene Adler would melt."

_...That's what you came up with?! What is wrong with you, Alice?! This is why you have no friends. Even in your dreams you're a nutcase._

By some magic he grins broadly, and I smile back, trying to act as though I didn't just make a complete and utter babbling fool out of myself.

"I understood rather little of what you just said, but I think it was meant as a compliment... It's sad that I'm so drunk I won't remember a word of it by the time morning comes," he says, tapping his hand on top of mine. "It is rare to hear such things."

"Come home with me," I say with a raised eyebrow, "_'hearing such things'_ won't be rare where I'm from, I'm telling you. The Vulcan ladies will snap you up, pretty boy."

"And where do you Vulcans hail from?"

I try desperately to remember the place Gandalf suggested to me, but fail. Instead, I scramble through my imagination and drawl,

"Four Privet Drive, in the district of... uh... Hogwarts?"

...Right, that's it. Final straw.

_Dear Ground,_

_If you could do me a favour and swallow me up, that would be much appreciated. I'm also not against spontaneous combustion, just for the record._

_Any time now would be Great._

_Yours,_

_Lady Lavender the Vulcan of Four Privet Drive, Hogwarts_

It's obvious that I say it like a question by Kili's contorted face. He ignores my uncertainty, however, and lends me a smile instead. I lean forwards on the arm of the chair to give him a smile, saddened that once I wake up, I'll never see this unusual cast of characters again.

"What a terrible name for a place... to be named after the warts of a hog."

"Awful," I agree, burning with embarrassment. "Tragic... terrible. A monstrosity of a place name."

_It's just a dream, _I remind myself._ He isn't real; you'll be waking up any minute now. Don't get embarrassed._

"I was born in the mountains," Kili explains, "like all my kin." He seems to consider something for a long moment, and gives me a look I cannot quite place. "Thorin is my uncle, you know," he tells me.

"Really?" I say, genuinely intrigued; come to think of it, I remember Fili mentioning it earlier. Realisation sweeps over me.

"...That makes you royal, then."

He nods, smugly proud of his heritage, and goes on. "I'm second in line to the throne, after Fili... or is it third? I can't remember. This wine is getting the better of me."

I laugh a little; he is rather dreamy. Drunk or not. _Dwarf _or not. And then, of course, there is the whole factor of him being... oh, what was it, now?

Oh, yeah.

_Imaginary._

"It's a shame that I won't remember you when I wake up," I say sadly, leaning a little closer into the arm of his chair. "You're rather fun, for a figment of my imagination."

"I shall take that as another compliment," he smiles. "But now, my Lady-" _'My Lady?' Swoon, someone pass me the smelling salts- "_I'll have to bid you a goodnight. I am, as you said, quite drunk, and need some sleep before the quest begins tomorrow. Goodnight."

I smirk a little. "Night night, Kili."

I lie awkwardly against the arm of the chair, tying my best to position myself so that I won't end up leaning- and drooling- all over him once I do fall asleep. It feels like barely five minutes that my eyes are closed, hung across the arm of that comfy chair, and then suddenly...

**~oOo~**

...I am flung awake once again by that terrible falling feeling. I bolt upright, clinging to the hem of my pyjama shirt for dear life, and find that it is morning; I'm in my own bed, safe and sound under the covers. Thank God...

_It was just a dream._

...Come to think of it, though, my bed feels awfully smaller.

And warmer.

And it's... _snoring._

I look to my left, and almost die on the spot.

Kili, the imaginary Dwarven Prince, is in my bed.

**AN: HUZZAH! We reach the modern world!**

**Let me know if you liked the chapter, guys. Can't wait to hear from you :D**


	7. Chapter 7: The Man of My Dreams

_**AN: OH MY GLOB, YOU GUYS. (Did anyone get that reference? Tell me at least one of y'all did XD)**_

_**Can I say a big beautiful thank you to you- yes, you! I cannot believe the last chapter got 26 reviews. 26 REVIEWS, YOU GUYS. I literally almost died; never before have I experienced such magic. I have fics with like triple the followers that have never even come close to anything like that; I love you all, and they were all so nice. It gives me fluffy butterfly feelings when I see I've made you guys simle :'D**_

_**And so, now that I have cried my tears of astounded joy all over the place, in the words of the great Wizard himself:**_

_**"Fly, you fools!"**_

_**...to the new chapter, that is.**_

**Chapter Seven:**

**The Man of My Dreams**

_I am flung awake once again by that terrible falling feeling. I bolt upright again, clinging to the hem of my pyjama shirt for dear life, and find that it is morning; I'm in my own bed, safe and sound. Thank God... it was just a dream._

_...Come to think of it, though, my bed feels awfully smaller._

_And warmer._

_And it's snoring._

_I look to my left, and almost die on the spot._

_Kili, the imaginary Dwarven Prince, is in my bed._

I pinch myself, of course; after all, years and years of having that horrible cliché of _'pinch me, I'm dreaming!'_ drilled into my skull by the media has to have some sort of truth behind it, doesn't it?

A clue: _No._

I jump from bed with the speed of a panther but the appearance of a startled rabbit. For a long time I stand there, just staring at the sleeping man- _Dwarf,_ I remind myself- who is spread-eagled across my tiny single bed, snoring loudly without a care in the world and rumpled up in my satin bed sheets. My first thought, stupid as it is, is that the stains from his bloody boots are going to be a nightmare to wash out. Then I ask myself a series of questions;

_What?!_

_Why?!_

_How?!_

I conclude the same answer to all three; at some point between watching re-runs of _'Here Comes Honey Boo Boo Child'_ and falling asleep last night, I had some sort of complete mental breakdown and deteriorated into mindless insanity. Lost the plot. Flipped the desk of rational thoughts. Caught the last train into crazy town and forgot to buy myself a return ticket.

_Hallucination,_ I tell myself, watching Kili as he lies there quite innocently. _Goodness, he is a very pretty hallucination._ Of all the hallucinations I might have dreamed, I'm certainly glad it's this one that has followed me back into the real world.

What am I saying?! I'm still dreaming... I must be. This is some Inception-style mindfudge of a dream-within-a-dream, when everything seems normal, like when you dream about going through the day ahead then wake up and end up doing the same mind-numbingly boring day twice, both conscious and unconscious.

Right now, I am unconscious.

But it feels so _real._

I slip out of bed, leaving Kili to his sleep. I do my dream signs, much in they way I did in Bilbo's house. I flick the light switch; it works. I haul a book down from the shelf, and find that I can read it perfectly. I check how many fingers I have, I check the clock on my bedroom wall twice, and both times it reads the same.

7:15 AM.

_...7:15 AM?!_

Oh, crap. My Ma's is going to be waking up in fifteen minutes. I've got to get this Dwarf out of my house.

I panic for a minute more, realizing that this is _awake._ I know that I am awake, 100%... I can _feel _it. Which means I'm going insane.

_This is all in your head,_ I tell myself. I find that I'm moving closer to the Dwarf, like a cheesy TV survival expert preparing to poke a stick at a sleeping snake; Steve _(bless his soul),_ stand back; I've got this beauty. Tell Attenborough there's a new sheriff in town. I lean over the bed and touch my index finger to the coat of the sleeping Dwarf gently, and squeal.

Bear Grylls, eat your heart out.

I recoil in horror upon realising that he is not some elaborate mirage; I can _feel_ him. Can your brain get so twisted that it tells you you can feel your hallucinations? I have no idea. And so, as my father's fathers did before me, and their father's fathers before that, I turn to the wisest and oldest source of knowledge in the universe to provide me with the answer:

Google.

I haul my laptop from beneath my bed and turn it on, and begin typing in my search criteria.

_'Can you-'_

...Oh, God.

_'-Feel the love tonight?'_

_'-Eat a Daddy Long Legs'?'_

...We're not going to get here anywhere fast. Years of internet memes and YouTube videos have taught me that the interweb is a dark and terrifying place. I type a little more.

_'Can you touch-'_

_'-your Cervix?' _

...No, Google, oddly enough that's not what I'm looking for.

_'-the Queen?'_

You leave that old woman alone!

_'-Dogs in Islam?'_

...What?!

_'-during a lap dance?'_

...This is just getting ridiculous. Hands off, you filthy Google searchers.

When I finally manage to type in _'Can you touch a hallucination?',_ the answer is provided to me by that ancient Guru known as Yahoo Answers.

The top rated answer, naturally, is a person claiming to have been licked by thousands of cats in one of their frequent hallucinations. A more logical answer goes on to tell me that yes, hallucinations can be tactile. Is this a good revelation or a bad one? Well, let's weigh up the facts;

It means that yes, this could all be a hallucination, which means that the Dwarf in my bed probably isn't real, and I really am just going crocker-rockers.

And so, I Google how to tell hallucinations from reality with no real plausible results; so decide upon my own method.

If someone else can see him, he's real, right? If they can't, I'm crazy... I could wait until my Ma wakes up and comes in here with the cup of tea she always brings to me on Saturday mornings and realizes that either I am alone, or that I am sat in bed with a strange man who looks like he's just broken free of a LARP festival.

...I don't think Mother Dearest is the best option.

An idea comes to mind; I'll hide the Dwarf dude until my mom goes to work, then I'll call my best friend, Josie, and get her to have a look at him; if she can't seem him, I'm mental, and will have to go to the doctors and get some psych help pronto. If she can see him...

I guess that means there really is a sexy little dwarf man in my bed.

"Alice?!" My Ma calls; _oh crap._ Here comes the _'wake up its Saturday'_ cup of tea. In desperation I pull the satin bed sheet over Kili's head as he lies there snoring, and do my best to arrange the various blankets and pillows over him to hide him before taking my cat, Misty, off the windowsill; the daft old thing curls up on top of the Dwarf's feet, conveniently hiding their shape. Thank you, Mr. Mistoffelees.

"Morning, Ma," I call in my best imitation of a sleepy voice; the door creeks open as I stand the other side of it.

"You're up bright and early, babe," she says, kissing me on the cheek, "are you going out?"

"No," I say, "you know me; Saturday is for sleeping and chilling out. I might have Josie over later, though."

"Oh, good! I haven't seen her in a week or two; listen, honey, I'm staying over at work tonight."

_Oh, thank God; gives me some time to sort this- whatever this is- out._

"I wasn't supposed to be sleeping in, but their short of staff; it does mean I'm going to miss Strictly Come Dancing, but you'll ring up and tell me who gets kicked off, won't you?"

"Yep."

"You're an angel. You don't mind being on your own until tomorrow afternoon, do you? They'll probably want me to cover the morning shift-"

"No!" I say with way more relief than I should have; my Ma makes nothing of it, just hands me my tea and springs back down the stairs.

"Love you, baby! Have a great day!"

"You too, Ma!"

She springs out of the door. The second it slams, I set about removing the blankets, pillows and cat from Kili.

"Hey," I whisper, "are you gonna wake up? Kili?" I poke him. "Wake up," I whisper; he does not. I shake him, more and more violently, and he must be a pretty heavy sleeper because he doesn't even flinch in his slumber.

Unsettled by the lack of response, I reach for my bust-up old phone and type in Josie's number; after all, what are best friends for if not for checking whether or not you have a Dwarf in your bed? By some miracle, she picks up on the second ring.

"Josie here!" she practically yells down the phone, "I'm in the middle of yoga on the Wii Fit, so you'll have to be quick about it-"

"Jos, it's me!" I call over the blaring music the other end of the phone, "... did you say you're doing yoga?"

"Yes I am, Alice; the family in the flat below mine have leant me their Wii for the week. It's brilliant, you'll have to come over and have a go! You can play tennis on it and everything!"

"Awesome; look, Josie, I need to ask you a massive favour; can you come around at some point today?"

"Sure thing! It'll do me good to get out of the apartment for a while, I'm sick of being up here alone. Why, what's the matter? Are you stuck on that stupid essay?"

"No, it's not that... umm... I think it's best if I explain when you get here."

Josie goes quiet.

"Are you alright, Alice?" she asks me in a quieter voice, barely above a whisper, "you don't sound yourself; are you being kidnapped or something?! Say_ 'potato'_ now if you are."

"No, Josie, I'm fine-"

"They've got you on loudspeaker, haven't they?! Oh my God, it's like that film with the old Irish dude and the Albanian Mafia in it... oh, what's it called?!"

_"'Taken?'"_

"Yeah! I'll be right there, Alice; just need to finish up this _Ardha Pasawotsit_, and I'll be right around okay bye love you bye!"

She hangs up, and I drop the phone into my lap. I look over to where Kili is lying... and he is gone.

_What on Earth-?_

Suddenly a voice from behind me roars,

"What am I doing here?!"

"Oh, _Jesus!"_ I gasp, spinning around to where he stands, "you scared the crap out of me-!"

"Where are we, woman?!"

He stands there, pointing my bedside lamp at me, wielding it like a weapon.

"Kili," I begin softly, "just calm down... it's alright-"

_"Alright?!"_ he shrieks, "It's not _alright!_ Where are we?!"

"You're at my house-"

"But I was at the Hobbit's house- _you_ were at the Hobbit's house! I fell asleep there, and woke up here..."

I open my arms in sympathy.

"Welcome to my world." I realize that it could have been taken in two ways, and smile a little to myself. "Kili, just... come and sit down. Okay?"

He stares at me wide-eyed, clearly reluctant; a few moments later he perches awkwardly on the edge of my bed. I take the lamp carefully from him and replace it on the bedside table. The two of us stare at each other awkwardly for a long time; in the traditional manner, I do the one thing society has taught me to do in all awkward moments.

"So... uh..." _Wow, Alice. Stellar performance. _"Would you like a cup of tea?"

_...There we go. Oh, oh Britannia._

"...No, thank you." His poor little face looks utterly befuddled. "Lavender, am I dreaming?"

"No, Kili..." I say, feeling his pain, "I don't think you are."

**AN: YES FINALLY GOT TO BRING IN JOSIE  
Josie is basically the archetype of the fan-girl/boy within us all. Although she is fictional, I love her to pieces XD**

**Sorry that this one is so short, guys; I'll upload the next one tomorrow. It's the longest yet, and probably my favorite thus far. And again guys- THANK YOU. 26 REVIEWS. I JUST CAN'T.**

******At the moment of my writing this, we have 7 chapters, 97 reviews, 87 followers, 47 favorites and 2,977 views. THE 7! IS IT A SIGN?! WITCHCRAFT, I SAY!**

**And one more thing; I just spilled orange juice all over myself. Can someone please hand me the 'useless eegit of the year' award?**

**Hope you all have a great new year and stick to those resolutions! **

**See you all next chapter! x**


	8. Chapter 8: House Guest

**Chapter Eight:**

**House Guest**

_"Would you like a cup of tea?"_

_...And there we go. _

_"...No, thank you. Lavender, am I dreaming?"_

_"No, Kili..." I say, feeling his pain, "I don't think you are."_

He accepts the fact far easier than I ever did, and nods solemnly.

"Some magic has brought us here, to this place. I shall call upon the great Wizard-"

"You're in my world, now, Kili," I tell him, "there's no magic here. No Wizards, no Witches."

"...We are in Hogwarts, then? This is the Vulcan Lands?"

I bite my lip, partly through horror at my own lies, partly through uncontrollable laughter.

"Uh... not exactly. But this is my house, we'll be safe here... we just need to figure out how to get you back." _And if you're real,_ I think absently. "I'll get you some tea, anyway," I say, standing and making for the steps; he follows, a little uneasily, but I don't complain. At the bottom of the stairs we are met by my sad-eyed little Weimaraner puppy, Pewter. Kili yelps in surprise.

"It's alright, it's alright!" I try; he points at the dog in horror.

"There's a small beast in your _home-!"_

"It's okay, that's just my dog."

"Why is it inside?!"

"He's supposed to be inside, he's a pet- animals live inside here. He's part of the family."

The notion seems to both surprise and disgust Kili, who starts to retreat back up the stairs; at the top, he is met by my angry little moggy cat.

"There's another!" he says, and lifts my poor old kitty above his head; Misty screeches in anger and scratches at his face, cutting the stubbled flesh just above his upper lip. He drops Misty, who scutters back into my bedroom with a hiss, his fluff ball tail vanishing around the door. "Why was it so _small-?"_

For Kili's sake, I put poor Pewter out in the garden and he sits behind the glass doors looking longingly at the warmth of the inside; Kili watches him with a contorted expression.

"I don't like dogs," he says.

"Come downstairs," I tell him; he stays perched halfway down the staircase. "There's food," I goad him, and he seems unable to help himself. I seat him at the dining table and reach in the cupboard. I wet a little kitchen roll and sit beside him; I reach out to his split lip, and he draws back.

"You're bleeding," I remind him; he leans back to where he was and allows me to dab away the blood. I feel his eyes on me the entire time; I risk a glance up at them and my heart shuts down for a moment in my chest. and my face begin to bloom red. _Stop being such a pansy, Alice._

"Umm... what do you fancy to eat?"

Kili furrows his brow in consideration.

"Have you any steak? Or lamb, perhaps?"

"...Uh... for _breakfast?"_

His expression shows me that meat for breakfast is just common place where he's from.

_What am I saying?!_ He isn't real... _is he?_

_Don't think about that now,_ I tell myself, _just wait for Josie. Then you can sort this out._

"We've got toast," I say, "or cereal. My mom's a Pescatarian so we don't really have all that much meat in the house, but I could cook you up some chicken breast or something-"

"What is _'Pescatarian?'_"

"Oh, it means that she that she doesn't eat meat," I tell him, "just fish and other food."

"That is vile," Kili says quietly, "how does she function? Is she an elf?"

"Umm... no."

Kili holds his head in his hands. "My skull is on fire," he tells me, "I should not have drank so much of that Hobbiton wine last night... I barely remember a thing."

_So long as you don't remember my telling you that you're very attractive and fresh out of a L'Oreal advert, I couldn't care less what you remember,_ I think, opening up the medical cabinet and handing two paracetamol and a glass of water to Kili, who watches with fascination as the water pours from the tap.

"These will make you feel better- swallow them."

"What are they?" he asks, gesturing to the small pills and rattling them in his fist, "some sort of magic?"

"No, they're science," I tell him, swallowing back a couple more myself, "they'll stop your head from hurting."

"How?"

_Come on, Alice... think back to GCSE Science. _

"It... uh... reduces the production of plaragarlewotists in the spinal cord or something... look, I'm just gonna put some normal clothes on. swallow those back. I'll be down in a minute."

I dart upstairs and into my room, running a brush through my hair and pulling myself into leggings and a scrunched-up skater dress with a baggy cardigan. I run to the bathroom and splash my face with water before scrubbing my teeth, then glance briefly into the mirror and grimace at my face; I look a mess. No wonder Kili was staring so hard. I rub some moisturizer into my skin and head back downstairs.

Kili is gone.

"Kili?" I call, "where are you?"

No response.

"It's not really time for hide-and-seek, bro..."

I search the downstairs rooms and then the up, but there is no sign of him. I come back down and stand in the kitchen, arms akimbo.

"Kili!" I call once more, but there is nothing.

_Maybe the hallucination is over,_ I think absently, then notice that my puppy is no longer sat by the door; I head to the kitchen sink and stare out of the window.

Pewter is sat on the grass, floppy ears perked, looking up at Kili, who is stood with his back to me as he faces the outer fence.

"Kili!" I call out of the kitchen window, "what are you doing out there?"

"I'm... answering nature's call, Miss Lavender," he says back awkwardly, "I don't suppose you could give me a moment's privacy?"

My stomach drops.

_Oh, Lord._

_Not the rosebushes._

"Kili, get back in here, now!"

"I'm a little preoccupied at the moment!" He yells over his shoulder, "can't it wait-?"

_"No!"_ I cry, "you can't piss all over the flowers, you'll kill them, and my Ma will kill _me!"_

"I doubt she values the life of the flowers over that of her own kin-"

"So you'd think," I yell back, looking away; I'm more embarrassed than he is. "But she loves those damn things, and if she comes home and fancies a sniff of her fragrant flowers to find them stinking of Dwarf urine, I don't think it's going to go down too well... for God's sake, are you done yet?!"

"Yes, yes... don't worry yourself. I'm coming."

He returns back inside, making some comment about my dress once again being very unusual before sitting down at the dining room table and asking about food; I pull out the toaster, and just then, the doorbell rings; the sound startles Kili, who is clearly not used to such artificial noises, and I reassure him that everything's okay before making my way to the door. I haul it open with relief to find Josie Maddox, my best friend in the whole wide world, standing there. She wears her faded plum-coloured hair with its light brown roots scraped back into a messy bun, her round face beaming and her arms akimbo. She was in a pair of shiny leggings, training shoes and a bright pink hoodie with her name on the back; clearly remnants from her yoga session. She heaves a huge sigh of relief upon seeing me.

"Hello, Ally-wally... no Albanian Mafia, then?" I notice the deodorant can she holds in her hand; I look at it, confused, and she shrugs. "I was going to spray it in the face of the Mafia Dons, bide us some time to escape."

I grin widely and hug her tightly. _God, it's good to see someone normal... well, at least my level of normal. _

"How are you, Josie?"

"Never mind me, what's this big secret you've hauled me out here for?" she says, practically pushing me out of the way and making her way through the hall excitedly; I slip in front of her and barricade her way to the kitchen.

"Josie, listen. I need you to not freak out," I say. "I... I think I might be going mad."

She giggles. "Well I could have told you that, Alice-"

"No... seriously. I've been hallucinating or something. Just... go in the kitchen. Tell me if you see anything unusual."

Josie narrows her eyes.

"Are you sure we aren't going to be kidnapped by the Mafia-?"

"...Pretty sure."

She shrugs and steps into the kitchen; I watch Kili from over her shoulder. He sits at the table, poking the fabric runner with his gloved hand; Josie pauses in the doorway and stares in his direction. He looks up at her, stunned at the new face, and stands hurriedly.

"Kili," he says with a tepid bow, "son of Dís."

He raises his hand then, and I get the sudden feeling that I know what he is about to do.

_No, Kili, no-_

He separates his fingers in the timeless gesture and says,

"Live long and prosper."

_...There it is._

I can't tell whether or not Josie has registered his presence; she stands totally still, hands at her sides, staring at either Kili or the back door to the kitchen._ This is it; the moment of truth. Ground control to Major Tom, do we have contact; I repeat, do we have contact?_

Josie squeals.

_Thank God; _I'm not crazy.

...But there is still a dwarf in my kitchen.

I grab my friend by the back of her shirt and pull her into the living room; when I turn her around, she is grinning.

"He's h-o-t _hot!_" she shrieks, far too loudly, and I pull her down onto the faux-leather sofa and hold my hand over her mouth as she rambles beneath my hold. "Hot _and _a Trekkie fan... but what is he doing in your kitchen, and why is he dressed like he's just broken loose of a battle enactment-?"

"Breathe, Josie," I instruct her, "breathe..."

She calms down and I release her.

"Who is that dude?!"

"That's Kili," I say; she bursts out laughing.

_"Kili?!_ Seriously? What a dumb-ass name-"

"So you saw him?"

She widens her eyes at me with an expression which says,_ 'well, duh.'_ "Of course I saw him; where did you find him? He's gorgeous!"

I try to stay serious until I've figured out what's going on, but can't help bursting into giggles. "I know, right? But listen; he thinks I'm called Lavender, so... don't ruin the illusion, hun. Please."

"You gave him your middle name? Why?"

"It's a long story; I'll tell you when we go back in there. You promise you won't freak out?"

"I pinky promise, cross my heart and hope to die-"

"Stick a needle in my eye," I finish and take the two of us back to the kitchen. Josie stares at Kili from the opposite side of the table with keen eyes as I make us all toast. I hunt for something to top the bread with in the cupboard and find a jar of Nutella; with a sharp grin I plate up the first lot of toasted bread and set it down before Kili. He stares at the plate with a grimace.

"Try it," I grin, breaking the silence, "you're going to fall in love with it, I promise. It's made from the tears of angels."

He stares at the bread before poking it with a distasteful expression.

"What is it?"

_"What is it?!"_ Josie yells, "it's Nutella! The treacle of the Gods!"

"The _Gods-?"_

"Let's not mention the Gods for a moment," I say with a forced laugh, "at least not until the toast is finished. Try it, Kili, go on."

With careful fingers he raises the chocolate bread to his lips and takes a tiny bite; my best friend and I watch in wonderment as he chews it, expression contorted, and then the magical wave of endorphin-infused serenity glazes his face.

"See?" I say, "good, isn't it?"

Kili nods. "It is. Have you got any meat to go with it? Anything will do."

"You want... meat? With chocolate spread on toast?"

He nods expectantly. "If it's not any trouble."

I shrug and throw him a packet of ham from the fridge. He places every single slice atop his Nutella toast, folding the two pieces of bread against each other.

"Ham-and-chocolate sandwich," I muse. "Original."

Kili grins and takes his first bite.

"It's good," he says. "Surprisingly so."

He seems much happier now that he has food going into his belly. I turn to Josie and begin to explain.

"I dreamt about Kili last night," I tell her, "and when I woke up this morning, he was here... he was real."

Josie barely looks up from her toast. "Okay... go on."

I'm stunned by her acceptance. But then again, this is Josie we're talking about... she's always been pretty airy-fairy, even more so than I can be. The fact that she is utterly unsurprised by my revelation that I have somehow managed to bring the man of my dreams back to the world of the waking isn't really all that shocking. _Thank God I've got her,_ I think.

Very slowly I talk the two of them through what has happened to me over the last twenty four hours, from the so-called dream at Bilbo's house to the here and now. Kili occasionally interjects with anecdotes in muttered Dwarven that neither I nor Josie understand, and when I start telling her about the all mighty Thorin- in the nicest way possible due to Kili's blood bond with the irksome Dwarf- Kili mentions that they are related.

"Dude," Josie says with a spray of crumbs, leaning closer to Kili, "you're a _Prince?!_ That is fucking awesome!"

Kili smirks, obviously grasping that it is a good thing to be _'fucking awesome.' _

"Thank you."

"But if you're a Dwarf," Josie asks, "why are you so tall?"

Kili shrugs. Josie turns to me and says, "so in like, your dream-land thing, is he really small? Like a tiny little cutesy midget-man who you can pick up and pop in your pocket?"

"No," I say, "he's just like this... normal-sized."

Now that I've got Josie's acceptance that this is reality to back me up, I'm finding it far easier to accept that there is a Dwarf in my kitchen; Kili, too, seems more settled. I notice a slight pain in my neck and bring my fingers up to massage the muscle there.

"This is some dark heathen magic," Kili murmurs. "How am I to get home?"

Josie is the one to speak up.

"Well falling asleep brought Alice- I mean, _Lavender-_ back and forth from your world, right, Dwarf-boy? So maybe you just have to go to sleep, and you'll be back in Dwarf-land."

"It's called Middle Earth-"

"Woah woah woah," Josie yells, dropping her toast back to her plate and pursing her lips into an 'O' shape, "reel back a bit there, home boy. Did you say _Middle Earth?"_

Kili nods. Josie turns to me and asks,

"Am I dreaming?"

"You're only just asking that now?!" I question her, "and no, you're not! We're awake, all of us are... we have to be. At least I think we are."

"But Middle-Earth, that's like, The Lord of the Rings and shit," Josie proclaims, "like, Frodo and the Hobbits and Gandalf and-"

"Josie," I breathe, half a face full of toast, "...say that again."

"...The Lord of The Rings?"

"No, no, the other thing."

"...Frodo and Hobbits?"

"No, the _other _other thing."

"...Gandalf."

"Gandalf?!" Kili and I say in unison; Josie looks between the pair of us and nods.

_Gandalf,_ I think. _Gandalf._

"Gandalf!" I practically shout, jumping up; Josie joins me.

"What about Gandalf?!" she shrieks, and I grin.

"I met Gandalf!"

"You met _Gandalf?!"_

"Yeah!"

The two of us jump up and down like lunatics, chanting _'Gandalf! Gandalf!'_ and holding hands; I suddenly stop dead.

"I'm going on a quest," I say blandly; Josie practically falls over.

_"You_ are coming on the quest to Erebor?!" Kili intrudes, but Josie's vocals overpower him.

"You're going on a quest with _Gandalf?!"_

"Yeah... with Gandalf."

"You and Gandalf the Grey?! And this Dwarf dude?! Cuz that wasn't in the books-"

"And my Dwarven brothers," Kili adds, "and the Hobbit."

Josie practically squeals. "Hobbits!" she yells, "he said Hobbit! I'm having a fan-girl explosion here-!"

_"Josie!"_ I shout, "did you not hear what I said?! ...I've agreed to go on a quest. With a fictional Wizard from a book written in the 1940's. And Dwarves."

Josie grins. "That is so badass-!"

"No, it's not!" I shriek, "I'm... I'm going to die! If this is all real, if I do end up going to Middle-Earth or whatever it's called in my sleep, I'm actually going to have to go, aren't I?"

"Yes," Josie says, "and the problem is..?!"

"Dragons," I say, eyes wide. "Gandalf mentioned Dragons!"

"One Dragon," Kili corrects me, "Smaug. And there will be Orcs and Goblins-"

_"Orcs!"_ Josie squeals, practically falling to her knees with excitement, "you're gonna get to see Orcs!"

"What are Orcs?!" I ask, and Josie's face falls.

"You really need to read more, Al-lavender; the Orcs are these big ugly monster things that eat everything and everyone. They're bred in, like, these weird-ass shell things. They're all grey and snotty and blood-thirsty and sentient to the evil dudes. They're awesome, and really strong."

Kili smirks from atop his chocolate-and-ham toastie.

"They're not _that _strong."

I can practically feel Josie shaking with excitement.

"You've fought Orcs?" she asks, "like, the Orcs from Morgoth?"

"A few," Kili says. "How do you know these things?"

I stare at the wall opposite me in sheer horror; Josie looks confused. She whispers in my ear as I ponder on Orcs and other life-endangering fictional beings and says,

"Am I breaking some sort of Doctor-Who-Style rule if I tell him about the Tolkien stuff? Will all wibbly-wobbly-timey-wimey stuff happen and, like, make the universe explode?"

_Orcs,_ I still think, imagining the creatures.

_Dragons, Goblins and Orcs. _

_Hobbits and Dwarves and Wizards._

_Lions and Tigers and Bears._

_...Oh, no._

"We're going to bed," I say quickly, grabbing Kili by the top of his arm and dragging him upstairs.

"Woah," Josie says, "okayyy... should I, uh... should I come up, or do you to want some time alone?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter," I say, "and yes, you get up here right now. Let's find out what the hell is going on, once and for all."

"Where are we going?" Kili asks, clearly not comfortable with being pulled around like a puppy on a lead.

"Kili, you can get in my bed; and for Gods sake, take your shoes off or you'll give my poor Ma a heart attack; I'll sleep on the floor. Josie, you need to watch us- can you do that? See if we disappear or whatever when we fall asleep?"

"I want to come!" Josie shrieks, "can't you do some sort of magic mind thing and take me with you?"

"Josie, I don't even know what the hell is going on here... I'm still not one-hundred per cent sure that any of this is really happening. Just... see what happens, alright? Can you feed Misty and Pewter, too, and if I'm not awake can you ring my mom at ten O'clock and tell her who got kicked off Strictly Come Dancing-?"

"Ten o'clock? You want me to sit here until ten o'clock doing nothing?!"

"I've been trying to get you to have a sleep-over with me for ages," I tell her with a smile, rubbing again at my aching neck, "here's the opportunity."

"It doesn't count if you're asleep!" she says, "it's going to be so boring."

"My laptop's on the end of the bed," I say, bunking down on my beanbag with a pillow and my fur throw, "Kili, get in my bed, please-"

"Ooh, _saucy-!"_

"Shut your face, Jos, you dirty-minded little horseshoe. There's a ton of box-sets downstairs, you can get through a couple of those, eat whatever you want."

"What box-sets have you got?" she says, jumping excitedly at my bedroom shelf.

"They're all over there," I tell her; she runs her finger along the spines of the books and DVD cases on my bookcase and gasps excitedly.

"The Walking Dead, fuck yeah! ...Ugh, it's season two. _Bull. Shit."_

"Have fun," I say, "love you, Josie."

"Yeah, yeah... go to sleep, dream-traveler. Ooh, that's what we should call you; the Dream-Traveler. I'll write a book on it... we'll call it... _'The Dream-Traveler's Wife.'_ You'll have to marry me, though, I'll be your wife. Is that even legal here yet?"

"We'll get a civil partnership," I smile into the pillow I've pulled onto the beanbag, "goodnight, Kili."

"...Uh," Kili says, "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be doing-"

"Just sleep," I tell him, "if we've figured it out right, we should end up in your world... sleep tight. Don't let the bed bugs bite."

He sits up swiftly, clearly alarmed. "There are bugs, in the _bed-?!"_

"No, no!" I reassure him, "...well, I mean, there are, but... oh, never mind. Just... get some rest."

"And you," he tells me, eyes already closed. "Goodnight, Lavender."

Josie makes a tiny squeaking noise; I send a beady stare her way, one eye open, and she flutters her hand like a fan before her face.

_'That was so cute,'_ she mouths; I throw her a smirk and close my eyes.

"Goodnight, Kili."

**AN: LONGER CHAPTERS YAYYY!**

**I shamelessly love Josie, I really wish she was ... uh... has anyone noticed that we have, like, 100 REVIEWS?! and there's only 7 CHAPTERS?! HEAVENS ABOVE, THANK YOU ALL! **

**One more thing (I know my AN's are always terribly long and you're probably all just sat there like the army in The Holy Grail screaming 'GET ON WITH IT!', and for that I apologize), but did anyone see SHERLOCK?! ASDFGHJKL**

**Love you all, please leave a review if you can!**


	9. Chapter 9: Bon Appetite

**Chapter Nine:**

**Bon Appetite**

_"Goodnight, Lavender," he tells me, eyes already closed. Josie makes a tiny squeaking noise; I send a beady stare her way, one eye open, and she flutters her hand like a fan before her face._

_'That was so cute,' she mouths; I throw her a smirk and close my eyes._

_"Goodnight, Kili."_

Josie's fumbling around the room in her hunt for something to watch on the laptop means that it is rather difficult to try and sleep; I hear her draw the curtains and start humming along with the theme tune of the show she has selected. Kili is surprisingly loud, too, thrashing left and right amongst the sheets in an attempt to get comfortable; when all falls quiet, I find that I am, at last, able to relax.

_Here goes nothing..._

**~oOo~**

...The familiar lurch knocks me senseless, and I wake up back in the world that Kili was born into. The first thing I notice is a horrible crick in my neck; I massage it with my fingers, and realize that my temple is leant up against Kili's shoulder.

"Ah, she is awake, then!" calls a voice; I look up from rubbing my pained neck to see Fili stood there, naked down to his waist with what I can only presume is one of Bilbo's velvet curtains wrapped around his midriff. _Well that's a sight to see first thing in the morning._

"Tell me, Miss Lavender, to you plan on leaning against my poor sleeping brother for the rest of the day, too? It's already nearing midday. We were planning on leaving at the break of dawn, but even the Hobbit is still sleeping."

I sit up, flushing red.

"You're rather naked," I say, looking away quickly, blushing even more now that I've become aware of my flushed cheeks.

"We went down to the river to wash," Fili tells me, picking up a half-eaten plate of dry meat left over from last night and chewing on it, "I think we gave the women of Hobbiton quite a fright... particularly dear Bombur. Poor Ori was so embarrassed for himself that he could not even get in the water."

"Bless his heart," I smile, and then realize with a tiny gasp that I am no longer wearing my mis-matched pyjamas, but am dressed in the leggings and dress which I put on back at home.

"You've changed," Fili notes. "Your dress, I mean, of course."

"Yeah," I tell him, still staring down at my clothing, "I guess I have."

"You are peculiar," he notes with a laugh, leaving the room. "Wake that brother of mine up, will you? Uncle Thorin wants to be out on the road within the hour."

With that, the shirtless Fili vanishes; I shake Kili lightly by the shoulders; no response. I suppose he's just not fallen asleep back in my room yet.

"Come on, sleeping beauty... it's morning time. Don't make me have to kiss you awake."

_Because I will, _I think maliciously, and watch him sleep a little while longer before realizing I am probably being the biggest creep in the world right now and leaving him to sleep, hearing the sounds of the Dwarves in the kitchen. I hope to God that the rest of them won't be shirtless by the time I make my way in there.

My prayers are answered; I'm greeted with a round of _'Good morning!'_ and a plate full of cheese being thrust into my hands by the erratic Bifur; I thank him and he mumbles merrily in Dwarvish, disappearing to Bilbo's tiny sink and proceeding to wash the crocks from last night.

"Best eat up, Lass," Bofur grins from the other side of the table, "you're going to need your strength for what's to come."

"What _is_ to come?" I ask, subconsciously avoiding sitting in Thorin's seat again whilst noting that the paracetamol I took is finally having an effect on removing the pain in my neck, "has Thorin said I can come on this quest?"

Bofur laughs, and so do the others. "Oh, goodness no, my dear; that's exactly why you must keep up your strength. He'll be back from the river in a minute or so, I should imagine, and you're going to have to fight your corner if you really do want to come along on this quest of his."

I nod, suddenly very nervous; the feeling washes over me of a child being called into the head-master's office. I sit quietly, trying desperately to think of a way I might convince him to let me go along; as horrifying as Dragons and Orcs sound, I'd rather be out there facing them with these people I know and Gandalf's promise of helping me find some answers rather than being abandoned here with nowhere to go; not only that, but Gandalf mentioned the Elves the other night, and that he would take me to them. I need to be on this quest, that much I know.

So when Thorin Oakenshield returns to the Hobbit hole, I stand from my seat totally prepared; Gandalf enters with him, the expression on his face showing that he knows what is to come.

"Thorin," I say as clearly as I can manage; he glances at me darkly and I quickly add,

"Your Majesty."

He nods, beckoning me to continue, and sits down at the head of the table with his arms folded. The room goes quiet, the only sound being Bombur chewing loudly on his cheese; Bofur nudges him sharply, and all falls to silence.

"I... I was wondering if I might come with you on this quest."

Thorin's face stays expressionless.

"Tell me, Gandalf," he begins dryly, "this girl who you have found; does she have any fighting experience?"

The Wizard clears his throat.

"Not that I know of."

Thorin looks to me expectantly, and I shake my head.

"And does she have any particular skills that might be of use to us? Does she have magic, perhaps? Or maybe she can read the unintelligible map for us? Or will she simply be an unnecessary drain on our resources-?"

"Well, I..." Gandalf's sentence trails off. If even the eloquent Wizard can't fight my corner, there is no hope for me. A smirk crosses Thorin's face and he purses his lips, presumably to tell me where I can get off.

"I can cook," I blurt out before he has a chance to speak; Thorin lowers his brow, stunted, and the other Dwarves begin to mutter.

"We could do with a cook," Bombur offers, "good food will surely bypass us out on the road."

"Yes," agrees Bofur, tipping his hat in my direction, "a little culinary expertise will go a long way out there on those freezing cold nights when not even a song can cheer our spirits."

"What sort of things can you cook?" Balin asks; I roll my tongue and offer,

"Oh, you know... all sorts of things, really."

"What sorts of things?"

"Stuff... and, uh... things."

"Can you cook chips?" Ori asks me, and suddenly I'm inundated with a list of requests; roast potatoes, bread, but mainly meat, meat, meat. I nod along dimly, and Dwalin speaks up.

"Well it's settled, then," he booms in his thick voice, slamming his muscular arms down on the table, "if the girl can cook, let her come."

The others look to Thorin, who appears positively mortified at the idea. It takes him a long time to respond, but when he does, it is with a gentle nod of the head.

"She may come."

_Oh, thank you, God._

"Thank you, sir."

Bofur gives me an encouraging wink and I grin, eyes wide.

I'm going on a quest... I'm going on_ the_ quest.

Just one problem left, really;

I have never cooked a proper meal in my life.

I'm more of a beans-on-toast, pop-down-the-road-and-pick-up-a-fish-n'-chips kind of girl. How on earth I am going to cook for thirteen rowdy, surprisingly greedy Dwarves, a Hobbit, a Wizard and myself, I have no idea... I'll figure that out as I go along.

"Where is Kili?" Thorin asks; no one responds, until Fili gestures to the living room.

"Go and wake him, Ori."

Ori moves automatically at the request of the leader, sweeping from the room; he returns several minutes later with a face set in stone.

"Ori?" Nori calls to his little brother, "what's the matter with you, Lad? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Ori shuffles forwards, eyes wide.

"There's something wrong with Kili."

**AN: Yeah... shamelessly threw shirtless Fili in there for my own visualizing pleasure. I REGRET NOTHING**


	10. Chapter 10: Narcolepsy

**Chapter Ten:**

**Narcolepsy**

_"Where is Kili?" Thorin asks; no one responds, until Fili gestures to the living room. "Go and wake him, Ori."_

_Ori moves automatically, sweeping from the room; he returns a minute or so later with a face set in stone._

_"Ori?" Nori calls to his little brother, "what's the matter with you, Lad? You look like you've seen a ghost."_

_Ori shuffles forwards, eyes wide._

_"There's something wrong with Kili."_

"What do you mean, something's wrong with him?!" Fili says in a sudden panic, standing instantaneously. Thorin does the same; the entire party arise and rush through to the living room.

"Out of the way, get out of the way!" Thorin calls to the group ahead, parting them like the red sea with his broad forearms, "what's the matter with him? _Kili-!"_

"He won't wake up," Ori says from the back of the group in a trembling voice, "I've tried over and over, but he will not wake-!"

"Whatever is the matter with him?" Balin asks, putting his thick fingers against Kili's neck; "the Lad's pulse is fine, he seems to be breathing alright-"

"He's okay," I try to call over the hubaloo of the others, "he's just sleeping-!"

"Then there's nothing wrong with him!" Bombur yammers, "Ori, you useless trollop, fancy giving us all a fright like that-!"

"He won't wake!" Ori repeats. "That's not right, is it?!"

"I'll sort him out," Dwalin calls; he pushes the others aside and quickly strikes Kili around the face with the palm of his hand.

"Kili!" he practically roars, teeth bared in the face of the sleeping boy, "wake up now, Laddie! Come on now, get up, son! You've got a quest to be going on!"

"This is witchcraft," Thorin says, then turns to me. "What have you done to him?!"

_"Me?!"_ I shriek, stepping back, "I haven't done anything-!"

"She's a witch!" Gloin proclaims suddenly, "she has placed a curse on him in the night-!"

"Don't be so ridiculous, Gloin!" Gandalf says, pushing through us all and over to Kili, "do you think I would not recognise a witch amongst our fold?! Now move aside, all of you; let me see what is the matter with him."

"Well I don't know what's wrong with the boy," Fili says, clearly itching with worry, "but I'm going to bloody kill him when he wakes up-!"

"There will be no need for that, Master Dwarf," Gandalf tells him. "There is nothing the matter with young Kili; he is simply asleep."

"Then why won't he wake up-?"

"That, I believe, would be a result of the night's festivities," Gandalf proclaims, "it would seem that he has drank himself into quite the frenzy; perhaps you were right in telling your brother not to drink so much."

"He's drunk?" Nori bleats, "that's all that's the matter with him?"

"It is rare, but I have seen it happen several times before with Hobbit wine," Gandalf muses, straightening himself back up, "the blend of ingretients can occasionally induce a person who is not accustomed to it into a deep prolonged sleep, particulary when the drinker is as young as Master Kili; he will be fine."

Bilbo Baggins comes out from his bedroom, hair askew, and quietly asks,

"What on Earth is going on out here-?"

"Quiet, Hobbit!" Gloin proclaims, "we are facing a _crisis-!"_

"This is no crisis," Gandalf reassures the group. "No harm has come to him, I can assure you. He is perfectly safe... just asleep."

"For how long?" Fili says, the relief thick in his voice, "we are supposed to be leaving today-"

"The effects depend on the person," Gandalf continues, "it may only be a matter of minutes, or it might be several days-"

"Several days?!" Dwalin barks, "but we were already supposed to have left-!"

"Do not panic. Let us wait it out a little while longer; place the lad in Mr. Baggins' bed, if he does not object-?"

Bilbo welcomes them through, and Dwalin carries Kili through to Bilbo's room. Kili lies still on the bed, face serene and breathing deeply, and Gandalf dismisses us all.

"I'll stay with him," Fili says, kneeling at his brother's side, "just in case any thing should happen-"

"It will not," Gandalf reassures him as we leave the room; he takes me by the shoulder and leads me into the study, away from the others. His silence tells me all I need to know.

"It's not a Hobbit-wine induced coma," I say, stating what we both already know. "It's me, isn't it?"

"I suspected as such," Gandalf says to me. "Would you care to tell me all that has happened to you since we last spoke, Miss Lavender?"

I do. I fill him in on every detail, from waking up in my house to the nutella and ham toasted sandwich; Gandalf listens intently, and when I am done, he speaks.

"And you say you awoke with your head on young Master Kili's shoulder?"

I clear my throat, a little embarrased at that for some reason.

"...Yes."

Gandalf nods. "I will not pretend to understand any of this, Lavender; I can only offer speculation. But it is my belief the physical contact between the pair of you is the cause of his transportation; his consciousness, I would assume, remains in your realm, in the body which has manifested there... clearly this is not transportation, as we all saw you sleeping last night. Tell me, when you fell asleep to return here, were the two of you touching at all?"

"No," I inform him quickly, "no... Kili was in the bed, and I was on the floor on a bean-bag."

Gandalf looks slightly befuddled.

"You slept within a bag of beans-?"

"No," I say quickly, stifling a laugh. "... No. But we weren't touching."

Gandalf nods. "Well then, I have one suggestion; may you sleep, Miss Lavender. Observe your realm, find out the state of the young Dwarf, and, if at all possible, try to bring him back."

"...But how?"

He reaches out and places his hand upon mine. "With touch," he says. "I believe that is all it will take."

I nod, looking away; a pang of sadness sweeps through my veins and for a moment I feel as though I might cry.

"Why is this happening to me, Gandalf?" I ask the kindly old Wizard; he shakes his head.

"That is yet to be seen, my Lady."

"Won't you come with me?" I ask hopefully, "after all, if it is my touching people that's causing all this, can't I take you with me to my world? You're a Wizard, you'll know exactly what to do once we get there-"

"I am needed here," Gandalf says with a shake of his head and a smile. "This is your adventure, my Lady. Besides, a Wizard has no time for sleep... good luck. And do try to bring him back to us."

With that Gandalf leaves; I sit alone for a moment, just thinking, before curling up on the Hobbit-sized chaise lounge and closing my eyes.

_Sleep,_ I tell myself... _well, the do say it cures all things._

_Look into my eyes look into my eyes..._

**~oOo~**

_... And you're back in the room. _

I sit up from my make-shift bed on the floor with a flourish and realize that I am alone.

"Josie?!" I shout, "Kili!?"

"Down here!" Josie's voice calls; I venture downstairs and find the two of them sat on the sofa in front of the TV, sharing a bowl of home-flowered popcorn and on the edge of their seats.

"Oh, thank God!" I call from behind them, "Kili, I thought something-!"

"Shh!" Josie hisses, "we're watching TV... look, Kili, this is it, this is the part!"

Kili is entranced by the screen; he sits mindlessly infront of it, throwing handful upon handful of sugared corn into his mouth as he stares with eyes wide as telescopes. I sit the other side of him on the sofa, still praising the heavens that he is okay, and turn to the TV.

"I thought something really bad had happened," I say to Josie, who silences me again; the event that she has been waiting for occurs on screen, and Kili let's out a pained groan.

"She was in the barn the whole time!" Josie tells him, "see?!"

"That's horrible!" Kili yelps in disgrace, "who would want to record such a thing?! Where did this happen?!"

Something clicks, and I frown at my best friend.

"Josie, have you told him that this is all real?!"

Josie side-glances at me guiltily and says, "it was this or Duck Dynasty. I thought he'd like zombies better... didn't want to ruin the magic, you know?"

"It's not real, Kili," I reassure him as he sits with his eyes still glued to the screen, "it's all acting. Like a play... but anyway, that's not important. Why the hell aren't you asleep?!"

"I was asleep," he defends, still gulping down handful upon handful of popcorn, "for quite a long time, I think you'll find. And then I awoke, and here I was, still in your realm. You were asleep, so I came downstairs and your friend introduced me to the Telovisin."

"Te-le-vision," Josie corrects, and Kili nods.

"Tevelision."

"Jos, did you stay and watch us?" I ask; she nods.

"It was really boring. You didn't disappear or anything; it was just the pair of you snoring for ages and ages, so I came down and stuck the TV on. Kili came down just after nine so we watched Strictly Come Dancing, I rang your Ma like you said and she's fine with me staying over. Then I made us popcorn and we stuck this on; and now here you are."

"Kili, you weren't there," I say to him once Josie finishes, "I woke up back in Bilbo's house. It was morning time, and you wouldn't wake up; everyone was panicking, but Gandalf fobbed them off with some story about the wine getting to you. We put you in Bilbo's bed and Fili's sat with you right now, waiting for you to wake up."

Kili looks horrified. "How do I wake up?"

"Gandalf gave me an idea. But it means you've got to go back to sleep."

"Oh, not again," Josie mutters, "it's so boring when you're all asleep-"

"You've got Pewter," I tell her. "Come on, Kili."

I lead him back upstairs and gesture to my bed; he gets in, and I pull back the covers on my side rather uncomfortably. Kili looks baffled, a half-grin on his fave.

"You're getting in with me?"

"Yep," I say, "this is how we get you conscious and back in your magical little world... probably. Maybe. Get your gloves off and take my hand."

I offer my palm to him, and he encloses it within his own large hand. We lie down next to each other, the pair of us rather embarrassed, and I wish him goodnight, closing my eyes.

**AN: I just loved the idea of Dwalin back-handing Kili... had to throw that in there ;D**


	11. Chapter 11: The Quest Begins

**Chapter Eleven:**

**The Quest Begins**

_"Take my hand."_

_I offer my palm to him, and he encloses it within his own large hand. We lie down next to each other, the pair of us rather embarrassed, and I wish him goodnight, closing my eyes._

I awake on Bilbo's velvet sofa, curled up like a cat; I allow myself to wake properly before walking through to the room where Fili sits beside his brother.

"Hasn't he woken up yet?"

"No," Fili tells me; with that, Kili's eyes flutter. "Or perhaps I spoke too soon... Kili, can you hear me?"

His eyes snap quickly open and he sits himself upright, clearly having just felt the lurch back into consciousness that I am now myself becoming accustomed to. He sees Fili first, still startled; Fili lets out a sigh of relief and skims his large hand around the back of his younger sibling's skull, pulling Kili forwards and pressing their foreheads together.

"You fool, little brother," Fili says, eyes closed and smiling with relief, "you utter fool... you have been asleep all day. Did I not warn you about drinking too much?"

Upon his release Kili's eyes find mine, and we exchange a brief nod of understanding.

"Come," Fili tells the both of us, "we ought leave now. Uncle Thorin has been waiting all day."

"What time is it?" I ask; Fili tells me to look out of the window, and I see that it is dark.

When the three of us make our way to the living room, I whisper in the corridor to Kili of Gandalf's tale that he has simply been effected by the Hobbiton wine; he frowns a little at the lie. The scene in the parlor is much the same as it was late last night in this world; the Dwarves gathered around the fireplace, smoking on pipes and drinking slowly from their kegs. They cheer upon seeing Kili, all but Thorin, who watches the boy with an uneasy eye.

"You're late," he says. "We were supposed to leave this morning; we are hours behind now, due to your excessive drinking."

Kili bows his head somewhat. "Sorry, uncle."

Thorin nods; he does not seem too irate. "We ought make haste now, catch up on some of that wasted time; Nori, Ori, prepare the ponies. The rest of you gather our belongings; we leave, now."

"Now?" Bombur asks, "but what about dinner?"

"Indeed," adds Nori, "we were supposed to be waiting for Mr. Baggins to return from the grocer's-"

"Dinner can wait- besides, we've exhausted the Hobbit's reserves enough. We go, now; Fili, Kili, go and help with the horses. Satchel them."

"I thought Bilbo was supposed to be coming with us," I interject, "shouldn't we wait?"

"Mr. Baggins has made it quite clear that he shall not be joining us," Balin tells me; I find myself quite disappointed at that.

"The open road is no place for wee folk," Dwalin grumbles, sucking the last sinews of meat from the bone of a lamb, "or girlies, besides... but we'll watch out for you, Lass, make no mistake."

I smile after him as he leaves; out in the courtyard the Dwarves mount their ponies; for some reason the idea of the oh-so-grand Prince of the Dwarves galloping around on his field pony tickles a funny bone, and I can't help but laugh as Thorin climbs atop his mare. I marvel at the size of the equines- they are far larger than those back in the real world. _My world, _I correct myself; after finding Kili in my bed earlier, I'm becoming quite certain that this world is real, too.

"That's a big-ass horse," I say to Gandalf as he climbs atop his own horse- an actual horse, I suppose, rather than an over-sized pony.

"This horse is of a typical size- you, my dear Lavender, are simply perceiving it from your shorter height."

"But why?" I question him; he shrugs a little and I roll my eyes. _You're supposed to be a Wizard,_ I think. _I haven't seen you do one Wizardy thing since I got here._

"Try not to think so loudly, Miss Lavender," Gandalf says to me; I look up in surprise, and he lends me a smile. "I would not need to be a mind-reader to understand what your demeanor is suggesting."

"Sorry," I mutter. "But why is it that I shrink when I come here?"

"Not everything can be explained, my dear. We have established that when you travel, your body remains here; it seems that your skin in Middle-Earth just happens to be smaller, and Kili's taller, from what you have told me."

I nod, reaching up and stroking the face of Gandalf's huge horse; I don't think it's going to be easy, getting used to all these huge animals. I glance across the quaint fields of Hobbiton, illuminated through the growing darkness by tiny lanterns, and catch sight of the flock of sheep who first pursued me, now penned up beyond a picket fence and grazing happily on the luscious green grass of the field. _Bloody things._

"Has she got a name?" I ask the Wizard, "your horse?"

"No- perhaps you ought name him for me. It is a he, not a she."

"Oh... let's call him... Dumbledore. Do you like that name, Dumbles?" I croon, scratching the huge beast behind it's ears.

I grin to myself as the Wizard rider nods in contentment.

"As good a name as any- you ought find yourself your own seat, my lady."

I drift to the back of the company, counting the ponies as I go, and realize that there are not enough for us all; we fall short by one, as two of the horses are covered entirely with satchels and bags and all sorts of items from crockery to weaponry.

"So," I call, "uh... where am I going to ride?"

"You'll have to share," Fili says.

"Let her ride on one of the pack-ponies," Thorin calls back from his own steed before riding ahead of us all, "they are meant to carry the baggage."

_Oh, ha ha, sassy pants,_ I think; Fili offers me an apologetic gesture as I grimace a little.

"I get the feeling that your uncle doesn't like me very much."

"He doesn't like anyone," Fili reassures me, offering out his hand before adding with a grin, "especially not Kili. Take my hand, you can ride with me."

I stare at his hand, and then at the hide of the beast.

"I... have no idea how to get on a horse."

"This is not a horse, this is a pony; and besides, that is why I am offering you my hand," Fili explains, curling his fingers in a gesture for me to hurry up.

"No need for that," come's Dwalin's voice, thick and fast from behind me, "come here, Lass."

Quicker than I can turn around I feel his broad hands at my sides. I'm lifted into the air with a yelp, and before I know it I'm sat on the back of one of the unoccupied horses; Dwalin skips his leg over the steed and props himself up in front of me, taking the reins, the fur at the back of his wide coat tickling my face and making me sneeze. He clicks his tongue and the pony begins to ride forwards; I clutch my fists together in a panic, trying my best to stay balanced. I hear the two brothers laughing from behind me as the party moves ahead.

"Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work we go..."

"What was that, Lavender?"

"Nothing."

"You have to hold on," Kili calls to me; I stare at Dwalin's back, more than a little terrified of the colossal Dwarf.

"The lad is right," he booms, "I'll not be stopping to pick you up if you fall off; grab hold of my sides, Lassie."

With great caution, I do; we ride onwards into the night, having left Bilbo behind. After a while of silent riding I call,

"It seems a shame to have left without saying goodbye."

"I said it," Nori barks from ahead of us, "didn't I say it? Coming here was a waste of time."

"That's true enough," Nori adds, "a ridiculous notion. Use a Hobbit? A _Halfling?_ Whose idea was it, anyway?"

Gandalf clears his throat nervously; from the distance, a gentle voice floats through the dark path.  
"Wait! Wait!" I turn with the others to see the tiny Hobbit running up the path, his large hairy feet padding along quickly. "Whoa, whoa... I signed it! Here!"

Bilbo runs up alongside Balin and hands him the contract from earlier; the old Dwarf inspects it a moment, holding it up in the darkness to get a better look, and nods.  
"Everything appears to be in order," he proclaims with a contented grin, "welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield."

There is a fluttering of cheers in which I join; Thorin turns about on his steed and calls,  
"Give him a pony."  
"Oh, well that's just unfair!" I proclaim over Dwalin's shoulder, "I sense gender discrimination going on here-!"

"Be quiet," Fili instructs me in an uneasy tone, "before he kicks you out of the company."

"It is a little unfair, brother," Kili says in my defense, "Given, Mr. Baggins will be a lighter load to carry-" _Charming-_ "but we could have spread the bags out and given Lavender her own."

"Thank you, Kili," I say with a smug smile; I can practically hear the grin in Fili's voice as he asks,

"Do you know how to steer a pony, my Lady?"

I frown and decide not to answer. Fili laughs under his breath for a lot longer than I would have liked.

"These forests are peculiar," Kili notes a long time later, at which point I'm almost asleep against Dwalin's broad back, his occasional laughter at the other's comments vibrating through my cheek. "Nothing like those back home.

"You're a long way from Ered Luin now, Lads," Dwalin calls to the pair.

"Is that where you're from?" I ask the brother's sleepily, burrowing further into the fuzz of Dwalin's coat.

"Born and raised," Fili assures me, "The Blue Mountains, in the common tongue. Our home."

"Not your true home, Laddie," Balin corrects the Dwarf, "your true home is Erebor. Remember that as we travel; it will make the load seem lighter."

"Tell us the story, Balin," Kili goads with the disposition of a child begging for a tale at bedtime; Balin tries to hide a smile.

"Oh, you don't want to hear that, my boy. You and your brother must have heard that one a thousand times."

"And we would hear it a thousand more," Fili adds, "tell us, Balin."

Balin needs little convincing; the company falls into silence as he begins to describe a plethora of riches; the shimmering rivers of gold within the mountains of Erebor, glittering statues encrusted with diamonds and emeralds and rubies, towers of sapphires and sinews of silver stretching up into pillars; he describes to us the king's throne, a monument of topaz, nacre and emerald, carved with and studded in its centre with the Arkenstone, an opalescent wonder representative of the divine right of rulership which was bestowed upon Thorin's bloodline many years ago; the eloquence with which Balin tells the tale and the gentle nature of his voice is enough to send me almost to sleep. I almost slip from the pony twice, to which Dwalin chuckles in his low grumble, moving himself forward along the spine of the creature that I might have a little more leverage. I close my eyes, arms gripped tightly around the Dwarf's middle now, and feel the tug of sleep wash me away.

**AN: Don't fall asleep on the backs of ponies, Lav. It's just not a good idea, my dear.**


	12. Chapter 12: Buckaroo

**Chapter Twelve:**

**Buckaroo**

_I close my eyes, arms gripped tightly around the Dwarf's middle now, and feel the tug of sleep wash me away._

**~oOo~**

Without warning I find myself awake and back in my own room, Kili lying in bed next to me; he is still asleep. _Oh, crap,_ I think; the two of us did not fall asleep touching, which means that he's still awake there, riding along innocently on his little beige pony, and I am probably face-down on the ground right now, having fallen rather ungraciously from Dwalin's steed.

It also means that I have a sleeping Dwarf in my bed who will not wake up again until I return to his world and fall asleep with him. I lie back down making it my mission to do just that, but am interrupted by the door creeping open. I sit up to see Josie stood there, face more terrified than Ori's when he believed Kili to be ill.

"Your mom," Josie whispers. "She's back early."

_No._

_No, no, no, no..._

"No!" I hiss; in a panic I fling myself from my bed and try desperately to think of a way to hide Kili, or at least figure out a way to distract my mom long enough to shimmy his unconscious body down the drainpipe or something. I force my thinking cap onto my head, hearing my mother fumbling with her coat and work bag downstairs.  
"Get in the bed," I tell her- Josie stares at Kili lying there, a wicked grin which I can only describe as Dr. Seuss-esque swiping across her face. "I'll tell her you're still here, that you were really tired and went to bed... that way we'll have a few more hours. Just stay here, okay?"

"no problem," Josie says, pulling back the bedclothes and lying next to the unconscious Kili with a beaming smile on his face. I leave her there and bounce downstairs, hair disarrayed.

"Hey, honey," my Ma chimes, kissing my cheek in her traditional manner; I flick on the kettle for her and ask her all about her day in the most normal voice I can manage. She tells me about the shift from hell as I stand there in a fluster, nodding along in all the right places and tutting whenever appropriate.

"So how was your sleepover with Josie?"

"Good," I say, "uh... actually, she's still here. Asleep, upstairs- we stayed up all night watching DVD's, so she's completely zonked... so am I, come to think about it. Do you mind if I go up for a few hours?"

"Sure thing, Al. Go get your beauty sleep." She kisses me on the forehead, taking her tea into the living room and muttering about finding Strictly Come Dancing on the catch up TV service. I bound back upstairs in relief and practically barricade my bedroom door upon entering it.

"How did you not snog his face off, Alice?" Josie asks me, "he is delicious, I just want to eat him."

"You can't eat him- now get up, Josie, I have to touch him for this to work."

"You can't go back to sleep yet!" Josie tells me, "you have to tell me everything!"

I give her a brief summary of events as I shove her out of the bed and take her place; she hums excitedly when I am finished and says,

"You have to take me with you some time. If you can take Kili back and forth by touching him, you can take me, too, right?! I can have a bad ass name as well- like a role-playing name, my own _nom de guerre..._ I want one! You're using Lavender, and Josie is so... _bland._ I'll have something really wacky, like _'Trinity'_ or_ 'Evangelina...'_ I'm gonna be...uh... Astoria! No, no, too Harry Potter..."

"Slow down there, buckaroo," I say, "you're talking about this like it's actually going to happen-"

"It is," Josie demands. "Come on, Alice, you have to take me! Not today, but some time."

"I still can't believe you actually believe any of this. I'm not even sure if I do, and I'm living it."

"Well, why not? It's far more interesting than reading dissertations and writing essays- you're going to see _Gandalf."_

I grin, remembering something from earlier.

"I named Gandalf's horse, you know."

"...What did you name it?"

I grin.

"Dumbledore."

"You never did-"

"Oh, I did."

Josie bursts out with laughter, and I have to clasp my hand over her mouth to quieten her down.

"You're supposed to be asleep," I giggle, restraining her mirthful howls; she calms down and agrees to keep watch whilst I go back to sleep. I perform the now familiar routine of fumbling under the covers before reaching out and taking the hand of Kili as he sleeps.

"I ship you," Josie beams, "I ship you so hard."

I grin, eyes closed. "Shut up, you sad little fan-girl."

"I will go down with this ship!" She yells after me, "you can't escape your destiny, Alice!"

"I don't believe in destiny, Jos... see you later, alligator."

"In a while, crocodile..."

**~oOo~**

_THUD!_ My head smacks off the pavement with resounding force, and I realize that yes, I have fallen straight off the pony. Just as I suspected.

"Ow, ow, _ow!"_ I cry, face-down in the wet mud. I pull myself to my knees, dress now smothered with thick dirt, and try my best to find my feet; amongst the huddled mirth and groans of the Dwarves comes a flurry of footsteps, and I feel arms either side of me pull me up to my feet.

"You really must learn to balance yourself, Miss Lavender," Kili's voice says; I look up to see that it is he who has helped me up, and lend him a half-dazed smile. My mud-streaked hair plasters itself across my face and I feel the burn of embarrassment again. I can sense Thorin's eyes boring into me; like the woos I am, I refuse to meet his eye.

"Sorry," I apologise to everyone and no one, "sorry, guys."

"Baggage," Thorin mutters, and turns his pony, riding ahead.

"I told you to hold on, Lass," Dwalin calls softly, still atop his pony; I apologise light-headedly as Dwalin offers out his hand again, but instead end up following Kili as he leads me to his own equine. He hauls himself onto the pony, grabs my forearm and swings me up behind him as the others ride on.

"Now you must hold on this time," he instructs me, reaching back for my hands and securing them at his waist; _ugh, swoon._ I hold on tight as the hooves of the pony trot gently against the cobbled road.

"I was back at home just," I tell him quietly; Kili seems to tense.

"Back in your world?"

"Yeah."

"But you must have only been asleep for a second; just long enough to fall from Dwalin's pony-"

"I know; but I was at home for about ten minutes. I don't think there are any rules with this whole travel thing, whatever it is. I'm going to talk to Gandalf once we stop, although I don't think he really knows all that much either. He said the Elves will know."

Kili scoffs. "We won't be seeing Elves any time soon."

"Why not?"

"Uncle Thorin hates the Elves... we all do. They betrayed us, when we lost the Lonely Mountain to the Dragon."

He goes quiet then, so I leave him to his thoughts; as we hang back from the others I whisper into his back,

"Have you told anyone?"

"Told anyone what?"

"You know... the travelling thing. The whole I-can't-go-to-sleep-without-dragging-Dwarves-to-alternate-dimensions thing."

"No, I have not. I didn't think it wise."

"No one else knows about it, just me, you, Josie and Gandalf."

Kili laughs under his breath. "That friend of yours is a strange one. Even stranger than you."

"Oi!" I growl with a smirk, kicking him in the leg; the maneuver startles the pony and she reels, whinnying, and almost throws the pair of us off it's back; I shriek in panic and Kili laughs, trying desperately to calm the beast.

"Easy, girl, easy... easy now, Primrose."

_"'Primrose?'"_ I choke, blushing a little as the others turn back to look at us with less-than-impressed faces, "that's not very manly, is it?"

"Well, she is a girl."

"Yes, but... you could have gone for something a little more hard-core. A name that packs a punch... like... Sharon. Or Lesley."

"Shh, not too loud- you'll upset her."

"Sorry about all that," I say to him; Kili laughs a little.

"Don't be sorry. It was all rather interesting, really- I still have no idea what it was, but it was certainly... different. When did you learn to do it?"

"Learn to do what? Upset horses?"

"No, no... the travelling between realms."

"Oh. I never learnt to do it, it just... happened. Waking up with you in bed was a bit of a shock, to be honest."

"I'm sure it was."

"Will you come back with me tonight? It's... it's just I've got your body- your other body- in my bed, and it'll be kind of hard to explain-"

"You don't even have to ask," he tells me, and risks a glance over my shoulder. "It would be my honor; although you must promise to show me around your world."

I squeeze his waist a little tighter in a gesture of thanks.

"I promise."

By the time Thorin calls for us to make camp for the night, I can barely keep my eyes open. Whilst the others get a fire going I go to speak with Gandalf; I tell him about what happened earlier, and he nods along intently, puffing smoke rings from his long pipe.

"I suspect you shall be asking Maser Kili to return with you tonight, otherwise you shall have an unexplainable body to contend with."

I nod. "I already did. But how can it be that the time is confused, Gandalf? I mean, a second here was a good few minutes back home, but that wasn't the case yesterday; I slept a solid night and woke up as though it had been just that."

"These are questions for those far cleverer than myself," Gandalf dismisses, "when we find them, the answers shall come. Until then, Miss Lavender, simply enjoy the adventure; I shall speak with the young Dwarf tonight and ask him, as I ask you now, to keep this whole affair a secret for the time being. A quest to reclaim a mountain is enough for our company to be dealing with without the added enigma of a loophole between worlds."

I agree to Gandalf's request, thank him and move over to Bilbo, who is stood discreetly with the ponies; his own, one of the pack-ponies, sniffs fondly at his hand, a soft crunching emanating from where the pair stand.

"It's our little secret, Myrtle," Bilbo whispers, "you must tell no one. Shh, shh..."

"Are you feeding the transport, Mr. Baggins?" I tease, approaching; he hides what I can only presume to be an apple, and I give him a smile. "Have you got any more? I'm starving."

He smiles, delving a hand into his pocket. "I thought you were supposed to be the cook."

_Oh, yeah... that._

"Well, even I can't make food appear out of thin air."

I thank him as he hands me a small cherry-red apple, and take a large bite out of it.

"Now you're feeding the baggage as well as the transport," I smirk, "our Lord and Master the mighty Thorin over there won't be impressed, Mr. Baggins."

Bilbo nods awkwardly. "I'm sure he did not mean what he said."

I shrug. "I'm pretty sure he did; still not sure why he agreed to let me come, to be honest. I'm not going to complain, though."

Gandalf's enormous horse leans its head over my shoulder, sniffing fondly at the fruit.

"Are you hungry, Dumbles?" I ask, ruffling his nose and popping the rest of the fruit past his huffing lips. "Here you go, boy... eat up."  
There is suddenly a high shrill sound which causes Bilbo and I to jump; we look about our heads uneasily for the source of the sound.

"What was that?!" the Hobbit yammers, startled. Kili, who is sat under a sheltered cove in one of the large rocks on the plain calls out,

"Orcs."

Bilbo and I instinctively move in closer to the group; I sit down beside the two brothers, still caked in mud which is now being dried by the fire as Fili continues,

"Throat-cutters. There'll be dozens of them out there; the lone-lands are _crawling _with them."

"They strike in the wee small hours when everyone's asleep," Kili tells me in an edgy voice, leaning close to my face, "quick and quiet, no screams. Just lots and lots of blood."

I stare in horror, and he exchanges a small, telling glance with his older brother over my shoulder. I realize they are having me on and smack the younger in his arm.

"You little bastards," I grin, "you scared the life out of me."

The two explode with laughter, and Thorin appears in our wake.  
"You think that's funny?" he growls at his nephews, "you think a night raid by Orcs is a _joke?!"_  
Kili bows his head, laughter diminished.

"...We didn't mean anything by it."

"No, you didn't," Thorin growls back, not even attempting to look at his shamed nephews. "You know nothing of the world."

The Dwarven Prince walks away, and the two boys hang their heads in shame.

"Don't mind him, Laddie," Balin says comfortingly to Kili as he sits with his head bowed. "Thorin has more reason than most to hate Orcs."

It is then, as Balin begins to tell me of Thorin's past- his fight against the Orcs, the loss of his father and grandfather, the way his homeland and birth right were stolen from him- that I begin to empathise with the would-be king. He stands in all his majesty as his tale is told, watching over the hilltops with sunken eyes, dark hair billowing in what is left of the night time breeze; and there is more than pride and anger in his stance. There is a softness in his gaze, a gentle sadness that helps me to see past the cool façade and the haughty demeanor. Standing there is a broken man, a troubled man...

...and most definitely a King.

**AN: #DRAMATICTHORINMOMENTS**

**What did you think of the chapter, guys? Please leave a review and let me know! Hope you've all had a wonderful day, and have many more wonderful days to come. And remember; however hard it is, whatever life throws at you, it could always be worse. Treat others how you would like to be treated and... uh... **

**Live long and prosper.**

**ily! :D**


	13. Chapter 13: Belize

**Chapter Thirteen:**

**Belize**

That night Kili and I sleep side by side, having decided in the silence to do so in order that he might awaken back in my world.

"It's rather exciting, all of this," he admits as we lie there, arms touching discreetly, "being able to see your world. You will show me around as you promised, won't you? Take me outside the walls of your home?"

_What an adventure that's going to be,_ I think; I tell him yes, of course, but he has to do exactly as I say and not go wandering off or doing anything odd.

"How am I supposed to know what is odd and what isn't?"

I try to think of the best way to put it.

"Remember Josie?"

"I don't think anyone could forget Josie in a hurry."

"Well whatever Josie does, do the exact opposite. That way, you'll be perfectly normal."

The stars here are stunning, nothing like the polluted skies at home; I tell this to Kili, and he smiles.

"They glitter," he says. "Like the diamonds set into the walls of Ered Luin."

"Diamonds in the walls," I repeat; _it sounds beautiful._ "I'd like to see that."

"Maybe one day you will, once all this is over," he says. "We shall have to return home to show the others the way, I suppose. And then there are the Dwarves of Moria, they will want to return to the mountain, too; the quest will not end when the Dragon is slain."

"Do you miss home?"

Kili shrugs. "Not all of it; I do miss my mother, though. She worries, you see; before we left, she could barely contain herself." He puts on a booming voice in imitation of his mother and whispers,

_"'Boys, make sure you look after each other and keep your weapons clean and for Durin's sake don't embarrass your uncle Thorin you know how he can be Kili that means you and make sure you're eating properly and you keep your sheepskins on and your cloaks washed and your ponies hooved and do as your told, be respectful to your uncle Dwalin and Balin and Oin and Gloin and Bofur and Bifur and Bombur and Dori and Nori and say your prayers and don't tease Ori because of his mittens...'"_

I smile. "Typical mother stuff then, really."

He laughs, and the two of us attempt sleep; I wish him a goodnight and close my eyes.

**~oOo~**

We succeed in our mission and wake up side-by-side, his hand clutched within mine in much the same position we had been in before awaking in his world. Josie sits on the end of the bed, fussing around as I sit up.

"You're Mom's gone to the supermarket," she tells me, "so let's get Dwarf-boy out of here, pronto!"

"What are we supposed to do with him?!" I ask, releasing Kili's hand as he sits. "We can't just let him wander the streets-"

"Kili can live at my place," Josie offers, "I've been thinking about it whilst the two of you were off fighting Orcs and slaying Dragons- he'll have to sleep on the sofa because the flat is tiny, but no one will know he's there, will they?"

"Josie, you are an angel," I tell her. "Are you sure-?"

"Yeah! It's gonna be badass- I'm gonna have a Dwarf as a roommate! Even if it's only for a few days until you sort all this out back in La-la Land... come on, Kili. We need to get out of here before Al—Lavender's Mom gets back and tans your ass."

"Why would she _'tan my ass?' _I ride a pony-"

"Jesus, don't tell Ms. Sorrel that, she'll have a heart attack. Oh, come on, dude. A random guy in her daughter's bed? She's hardly going to think you've popped around for a cup of tea. Come on, let's-a go, Mario."

"I'll have to come and stay at yours, too," I reveal to Josie, "I have to touch Kili so that he wakes up-"

"Sure thing!"

"Awesome. I'll tell my Mom we've got some massive project to do or something... we can figure that out later. Hey, don't forget your gloves, Starman."

Kili takes the items from me and pulls his hands into them as we descend the stairs. "So where am I going?"

"To Josie's- I'll be over in an hour or two. Just... don't get into any trouble, okay?"

_Click._

"Oh, _shizer-"_

My Ma walks in through the hall with two carrier bags in her hands to see the three of us stood in the kitchen aimlessly, frozen with surprise and not one of us saying a word.

"Who's this?" my Ma asks with a plastered-on smile, holding her hand out to Kili. He lifts it to his lips and kisses the back of her hand. Ma smiles and I feel my eyes grow wide.

_Stop it, Kili,_ I think. _And for the love of God, don't you dare-_

He goes to raise his hand to perform the Vulcan gesture- I nudge him sharply and shake my head.

"This is... uh... Josie's cousin," I say quickly, "he's visiting from... Belize."

"Yeah," Josie says in a fluster, "this is... Cedric. Cedric Diggory."

_Oh God._

"Nice to meet you, Cedric," my Ma offers, putting her bags of shopping down on the table, "that's an interesting outfit you've got there. How come you're wearing that?"

"Comic-con," I intrude before Kili can start babbling about quests and dragons, "he's cosplaying as..."

"A Dwarf," Josie offers. "A Dwarven prince."

My Ma nods her head with a raise of her eyebrows. "How... _intriguing._ Are the pair of you staying for tea?"

"No," I tell her quickly, "actually, they're just leaving... bye, Josie. Bye, Cedric-"

"Don't be so rude, honey," my Ma scalds, "I'm sure Josie and Cedric can speak for themselves-"

"No, actually," I intrude, "Cedric doesn't speak English. If fact he doesn't speak at all- he's... uh... dumb."

"Like, _mute,"_ Josie says, backing me up.

"It's a horrible business- he was- um- attacked. As a child."

"By bears," Josie adds, "...the wild bears of Belize."

"Goodness, that's awful!" my Ma proclaims, "you poor thing. How long is Cedric in town?"

"He's just here for Comic-con," Josie says.

"...He came all the way from Belize to attend that geek-fest?"

"He's a massive nerd," I say with a nod. "Huge nerd. Worse than me."

"Worse than _me,"_ Josie proclaims. "Well, we best be off, don't want to miss the train- come on, Cedric, let's get you back to Belize. Nice seeing you, Ms. Sorrel."

"And you, honey- lovely to meet you, Cedric!"

Kili smiles awkwardly over his shoulder as Josie leads him from the kitchen and out of the house; I show them out then stand in awkward silence with my mother, who suddenly says,

"He seems nice. What was he doing here?"

"Josie gave him the address over the phone- she's taking him to the train station."

"Over the phone?" my Ma interjects, "I thought he couldn't speak-"

"Face-time," I squeak, "they use sign-language... I'm actually going to stay at Josie's for a few nights, Ma. We've got this huge project to do and we're gonna have to work on it late into the night- we've been putting it off for ages so we need to do it pretty fast."

"You haven't mentioned it before now... at least stay for tea, babe. I'm making your favourite- cheese and spinach casserole."

_Not my favourite,_ I think. Probably one of the most horrible foods I have ever tasted, in fact, but my dear Ma believes it to be her specialty, and I think it would break her heart if I told her the truth. She is a terrible cook, and so am I.

Speaking of which... I better start reading up on how to actually cook, if I'm going to live up to my lie of being Middle-Earth's answer to Nigella Lawson (but without the cocaine.) I head upstairs once I've forced my way through half a plate of the leafy pasta concoction and start bunging cookery books inside my travel bag; it's a bloody miracle that I've managed to blag my way onto this quest with the promise of food. I grab some clothes and my laptop, shoving them all into the bag, and head downstairs.

"I'll pop back home tomorrow and see you, Ma. Have a good night."

She fusses around me a minute or two checking that I've remembered my toothbrush and my vitamins and a jacket and hey, why not take some more casserole, too? I head out into the street after kissing her goodbye and begin my walk to Josie's flat, a huge tub of cheese and spinach casserole which could probably feed an army in my grasp. Luckily Jos doesn't live too far, a few streets or so.

Josie grew up in a children's home; her mother couldn't cope with caring for her alone and she was pretty much raised single-handedly by her father, Pete; he was a lovely guy. Used to take Jos and I on day trips to the safari park and the funfair, days out to the beach and sledging when it snowed. He would sit and read us bedtime stories when we stayed over at his house, and was more like a father to me than my own ever was; mine left when I was five years old, and I haven't seen him since.

But back to Pete. When we were both ten years old, my mother got a phone call. Pete had been at work, fixing up the guttering on the side of someone's house; he had fallen from the ladder and cracked his head off the pavement. The injury completely addled his brain; he was in a coma for months before it was eventually decided that he was completely brain dead and that recovery was never going to happen. The hospital pulled the plug on his life support treatment, and then the mourning process began.

Josie's mother spiralled further into alcoholism, and it was decided by the social services that she was no longer fit to care for her. Josie ended up in a local children's home, then a foster family a few miles away, before being moved back to the home after the family hit financial difficulty and couldn't maintain the care of another child. She hated the home, and would spend as much time as possible around at mine. My mom offered to adopt her early on, but her biological mother wouldn't approve it; as soon as she was old enough to leave, she signed herself up for a council flat and has been living in her tiny one-bedroom ever since.

Josie loves her flat; hell, _I_ love her flat. The area is pretty decent, her neighbours are nice enough and every penny of her wages from her part-time job goes into furnishing the place with colourful canvases, a plethora of cushions and all the collectable action figures she can find.

I ride the elevator up to her floor and ring the doorbell; the nail varnish painted bell chimes out the national anthem, and Josie appears at the door with a bottle of energy drink in one hand and a packet of Space Raiders in the other. She shoves a handful of the crisps into my mouth and leads me through to the tiny living room.

The first thing she asks is if I can take her with me.

"Come on, let's all go!" Josie says, "when Kili gets back from hunting, we'll-"

"Hold up," I say, shocked, "Kili is _where?!"_

Josie looks stunted. "Hunting," she repeats. "He said he was hungry and he didn't fancy crisps or humus so-"

"He'll come back with someone's cat!" I shriek, running to the window and staring out at the field which serves as the block's shared garden, "what if someone sees him?! There he is-!"

I crack open the window hatch and yell out,

_"Kili!"_

He turns to me with his finger pursed against his lips; a moment later he darts into the bush, wrestling with whatever he has found, and stands up with a struggling pigeon.

"Put that bird down," I demand, "and get back in here!"

"You ought thank me!" he laughs, "am I not providing for you and your kin-?"

"I'll bloody provide you with something if you don't get back up here!" I cry, "let go of that pigeon right now!"

With a roll of his eyes he does so, and the bird flutters off in a squawking panic; I watch him as he makes his way back inside with a relieved breath.

"Let's watch TV," Josie says, bunging down on the faux-leather sofa and turning on the Television set. She skips her way to the music channels and finds a station that happens to be doing a corny countdown of the eighty greatest eighties hits.

_"And now for number thirteen in our chart..."_

The opening instrumental strings up, and Josie and I exchange a grin. She grabs a hairbrush off the kitchen unit and throws it to me, using the remote control as her own microphone. We point at each other from across the room and screech,

_"You were working as a waitress in a cocktail bar-!"_

I turn the volume up so loud as we sing that the pair of us barely hear the doorbell as it rings. I skip over to it, dancing to the beat with dance moves that look like they were pulled from an early Take That video and pull open the door; Kili stands there, eyes wide at the sudden blow of music, and I grab him by the collar of his shirt, walking him into the room backwards as I sing into his face.

_"Don't you want me, baby?!"_

_"Don't you want me, O-oo-o-oh!"_ screeches Josie, stood on the coffee table now and pointing out at an imaginary crowd.

"This is a traditional Vulcan song?" Kili asks as the tune fades out and another begins that we do not know; I grimace a little and decide that now might be the time to let him know that I am a compulsive liar.

"Uh... I lied about the Vulcan thing. I'm not a Vulcan."

Kili frowns. "You're not?"

Josie grabs a decorative action figure of Spock from the nearest shelf and tosses it Kili's way; he catches it in mid-air and observes it.

"It looks like an elf," he says. "Tall, lean, pointed ears, sullen expression-"

"That's Vulcan's for you," Josie says, "though that's the Zachary Quinto version; it kind of sucks. I'll go get my original one, you can't beat old Lenny... hold up a minute."

She pauses on her way to her bedroom and gives me a long, narrow-eyed stare.

"You told Dwarf-boy you were a _Vulcan?"_

I nod uneasily; she practically falls over laughing.

"But why would you lie?" Kili asks; I offer him a hopeless shrug and explain,

"Gandalf told me to tell you I was some kind of Hobbit that I couldn't remember the name of, and I panicked."

He nods, sitting atop Josie's counter. "Is there anything else you've lied about?"

"Her name's not Lavender!" Josie shouts with a mouth full of Space Raiders, still in hysterics in her room; Kili looks to me and I try my best to explain.

"Well it _is,"_ I say, "but Lavender's my middle name, not my first... I thought I was dreaming, remember, and I was pretty drunk. I didn't think you'd be sticking around to learn the truth... Sorry, Kili. I feel like an ass now."

He nods. "You do not look like an ass. What is your true name then? Your first, I mean."

"Alice."

He rolls the syllables around on his tongue a moment.

"Alice."

I nod and he says, "you won't mind if I still call you Lavender?"

"Feel free," I say, "I like Lavender better, anyway."

"Like lavatory!" Josie shouts with another cackle- I grab the nearest cushion from the sofa and throw it at her.

"So if you are not a Vulcan, what are you?"

"I'm a human."

Kili nods. "Gandalf explained to me that your form may be smaller in my realm than your own, and the other way for me."

"We are of the race of Men," Josie calls in an ethereal, mock-Dumbledore voice, translating my English into Dungeons-and-Dragons speak. "...The Atani, I think it is."

Kili turns to her. "You speak Elvish?"

Josie grins, handing him the Spock doll she went to retrieve.

_"Eca, a mitta lambetya cendelessë Orcova."_

I look to her, astounded.

"You actually speak it?"

Josie shakes her head with a grin. "That's all I know, really; remember that boyfriend I had, Mark? He was really into all the language stuff. He said that to me when we broke up."

"What does it mean?"

Josie grimaces.

"_'Be gone, go and French-kiss an Orc' ..._Legit."

"We know nothing of your world in mine," Kili says, "and yet Josie knows so much of ours. How is that possible?"

"I am a seuth-sayer!" Josie booms, jumping atop the table again with a blanket over her shoulders; Kili's eyes widen, and he takes a step backwards. "I am an Oracle from the north-!"

"No you're not, Josie Maddox!" I yell, grabbing her blanket and pulling her down onto the sofa, "stop being a bully!"

Josie grins and turns to Kili. "There's books," she explains, "written years ago by this dude... can't remember his name. Goes on and on about Middle-Earth and Hobbits and Elves... and Dwarves."

"May I see?"

"No you may not," Josie says quickly, "that could be your future, or your past... has all the stuff happened with the r-?"

_"Spoilers!"_ I shout, covering Kili's ears with my hands; Josie cuts her words off mid-sentence and nods.

"You can't see those."

I try my best to change the subject before Kili is able to get any more curious.

"We'll take you shopping tomorrow," I tell him, "let you see some more of our world, like I promised. Get you some normal clothes... but you have to promise not to do anything... _Dwarvish."_

"Such as...?"

"Trying to kill pigeons in the street," I say, "saying... _weird _things. Kissing people's hands and doing the whole bowing business. That's not how we do things here; you've just got to keep out of people's way."

I see that Kili is no longer paying attention; his eyes are locked onto the TV set, where number ten in the chart show is playing.

"What on earth is that woman doing?"

I look over to see that it's the music video to Ashes to Ashes.

"That's not a woman, that's David Bowie," I shrug. "He does that sort of thing a lot; he's like the original Lady GaGa."

"Lady what-what?"

"Never mind."

"Where is his beard?"

"He hasn't got one," I say, and then add with a smirk, "like you."

Kili looks affronted. "I do have a beard, it's just growing through-"

"Yeah, yeah. Come back when you look like Bombur... come on, let's watch some TV."

We spend the night before the TV set, with Kili occasionally talking back to the characters in the shows. Josie explains to me that he originally believed them to be tiny people locked within the TV set. He marvels at the guns in a crime drama we watch, astounded by their efficiency; we end the night watching Love Actually for lack of anything else, which takes some explaining due to the fact that Kili is amazed how one of the actors can be in both this movie and the show he was watching with Josie earlier at my house when I was asleep. I put my hand on his bare forearm as I realize he is falling asleep, probably bored stiff by the slushy fluff-fest before the three of us; eventually he nods off.

"Well he'll be back to fighting Orcs now," I tell Josie, toes curled up under the blanket as the room seems to get colder. I lean my head against her shoulder before realizing the implications of what that could bring and pulling away.

"Don't touch me, Josie," I remind her. "I don't want you getting dragged into this, too."

"I want to come," Josie tells me with a yawn, but makes her way to her bed all the same. "Are you and lover-boy going to be alright on the sofa?"

"Well we can hardly move him now," I reason.

"You haven't even got your pyjamas on yet."

"My clothes change depending on what I wear here," I say, "and I'm not spending another day in my '_stay cool'_ pyjamas like some sort of Mr. Freeze reject... see you in the morning, Jos."

**AN: I love it, I shamelessly love it. This is so much fun to write, its brill being able to write this when my other fic is so damn depressing. **

**People have been asking about ship names: personally, I like ****Lili.**** It just sounds better that Kavender, or, if we're going for 'Alice', Aili or Kavice. Thoughts?**

**And... uh... y'all can probably guess what the secons ship is gonna be. Sailing soon at a port near you!**


	14. Chapter 14: Rabbit Stew

**Chapter Fourteen:**

**Rabbit Stew**

The lurch back into the realm of Middle-Earth is less unsettling this time; I open my eyes and stare upwards at the clouds above through the thickets of trees. When I look down I find that I am still in my skater dress, and it is still covered in mud, despite the fact that the dirt did not follow me home. _Wonderful. _The odd transition from the warmth of my bed to the chill of sleeping outside is rather a shock; I've never been a big fan of camping. I sit up quickly, rubbing my forearms against the cold, then I realize then that I have someone's cloak wrapped over me; I look about the bunch and see that Kili, who is now awake and attaching the horse's nose bags, is missing his hood and coat. I take the cloak to Kili, thanking him for it.

"It's not mine," he says, "I think mine is back in your friend's home. I took it off earlier, remember?"

"Oh," I say, "well, that is awkward... then whose is this?"

He nods over to Bofur, who is squatting down on a rock, stirring up some leftover stew brought from Bilbo's house last night. He is cloakless rubbing his hands against the fire to try and keep warm. _Oh, he is such a sweetheart._

"Thanks, Bofur," I smile, pulling it back over his shoulders as he hums merrily despite the chill.

"Not a problem, Lass," he grins, still staring down at the broth, "you looked awfully cold last night, what with no sleeves on that dress of yours. Speaking of which, we shall have to stop off somewhere on the road and get you some proper attire. There's no use you travelling like that. You'll freeze to death when we get nearer to the mountains; summer's on its way out now."

Surely enough, we do; we stop off on the road at a small farm in the hills run by a young man- _man_, I should add, properly sized like Gandalf- and the Wizard manages to persuade the farmer to sell us one of his wife's dresses, in either rosewood red or a dusty sort of teal colour, and a sheepskin cloak-coat thing for what I'm assured is a rather decent price. When it comes to paying, Gandalf turns to the company.

"Are we agreed that it is a suitable charge?"

The Dwarves mumble in agreement.

"If she can pay for it, she can have it," Thorin proclaims...

_Well, we know that's not going to happen._

"I guess I'll just freeze, then," I mumble to myself from the back of Fili's pony, who has been delivered the burden of carrying me today. I think to myself how I'll just hunt through my wardrobe for my winter gear when I'm awake back at home tomorrow. _Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, your majesty._ I fold my mud-crusted arms across my chest against the cold, and a small chinking bag flies past my head.

"Here," comes Kili's dry voice, and I see the farmer catch hold of the bag. "There's more than enough there; give the lady the dress."

The farmer counts up his winnings, grinning at the gold before reaching over and handing out the burgundy dress to me.

"We'll take the green instead," Kili intrudes; the farmer bows, spreading the other dress over my lap. I look to Kili, more than a little touched, and give him a smile.

"Thanks," I say, running the heavy fabric between my fingers, "it's beautiful."

Kili nods with a faint smile, clicking at his pony and riding onwards. I watch him absently from over Fili's shoulder, his hair blowing lightly in the coming breeze.

"My brother has taken quite the liking to you, it seems," Fili smirks quietly, moving the pony forwards slowly.

We ride onwards for hours on end, and I listen to the Dwarves exchange stories of home; tales of gold and ore, war and family, and, of course, extraordinary beards. All goes quiet for a while, before I hear Fili gently chuckling to himself. He takes a deep breath in and bellows,

_"Oh, the King beneath the mountains,_

_The King of carven stone,_

_The Lord of silver fountains_

_Shall come into his own!"_

"Not now, Fili, for heavens' sake," Thorin yells back, but I sense the hint of a smile in his sharp voice. From further up the line one or two of the other Dwarves join in, and soon enough the entire assembly is singing along, all but myself, Bilbo, Gandalf and the Dwarven King.

_"His crown shall be upholden,_

_His harp shall be restrung,_

_His halls shall echo golden_

_To songs of yore re-sung!_

_The woods shall wave on mountains_

_And grass beneath the sun;_

_His wealth shall flow in fountains_

_And the rivers golden run!_

_The King beneath the mountains,_

_The King of carven stone,_

_The Lord of silver fountains_

_Shall come into his own!"_

The Dwarves cheer and I say into Fili's back,

"Are all Dwarven songs about your uncle, or is it just the ones _you_ sing?"

Fili laughs. "That one is not just about him; it's about me, as well, I suppose. All the heirs to the line of Durin; Kili, too, should I die before I have any children."

"Do you want children?"

"Yes, I suppose. Well... yes, if anyone will have me."

"Anyone would be lucky to have you," I assure him. "Are you seeing anyone?"

"Heavens, no. I haven't yet found a Dwarvish woman with a beard quite thick enough yet."

I can't help but laugh, and he grins back at me. I guess there's no dating sites in Middle-Earth. _Plenty-O' ._

"It is no laughing matter, young Hobbitess, or whatever you are... the beard is the defining characteristic in women of our race. And Dwarves mate for life, so once you've made your choice there's no deviating from it."

"Not only that, but there are not many women of our kind," Dori proclaims, "which means we are a dwindling race; that's why we're all counting on our lads to find themselves some nice Dwarven ladies and start families once this quest is done... do you hear that, boys?! Ori, Fili, Kili?"

"I'm trying to pretend not to," Fili laughs, and the two younger Dwarves simply look embarrassed. Ori tugs at the sleeves of his yarn arm warmers and smiles.

We ride all day and half way through the night, at which point my arse is so numb and my belly rumbling so loudly that I feel I might just break down. When Thorin calls for us to stop, it is at the site of an abandoned farmhouse.

"We'll camp here for the night," the leader of the company drawls, hopping down from his own steed. "Fili, Kili, look after the ponies, and for Durin's sake, make sure you stay with them."

"Yes, Uncle."

"Of course, Uncle."

Once the Fili and Kili Kiss-Ass Show comes to an end, the boys drift to the edge of the woodlands and set about removing the satchels and supplies from the ponies.

"I think it would be wiser to move on," Gandalf suggests. "We could all make for the Hidden Valley."

Thorin practically growls aloud. "I have told you already, _I_ will not go near that place-"

"Why not?! The Elves could help us. We could get food, rest, advice-"

"I do not need their advice-"

"We have a map that we cannot read. Lord Elrond could help us-"

_"Help?!"_ Thorin scoffs, "a dragon attacks Erebor; what help came from the Elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls. The Elves looked on and did nothing, and you ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather? Who betrayed my _father-?"_

"You are neither of them!" Gandalf scalds the Dwarf, "I did not give you that map and key for you to hold onto the past-!"

"I did not know that they were yours to keep."

With that, the Wizard turns on his heel and walks away, mumbling under his breath.

"Gandalf," Bilbo calls, "where are you going-?"

"To seek the company of the only one around here who's got any sense!"

"...Who's that, then?"

_"Myself,_ Mr. Baggins! I've had enough of Dwarves for one day."

All goes quiet, and Thorin raises a hand absently.

"Have the girl get a fire going."

"She has a name," Kili says abruptly from the bush; the entire assembly silences at his forwardness, myself included, and Thorin watches his young nephew with hooded eyes. Kili looks away.

"...It's Lavender."

Thorin turns away from him and walks to the edge of our makeshift campsite, eyes on the horizon ahead.

"Have _Lavender,"_ he glowers, "get a fire going. We're hungry."

The Dwarves busy themselves with unpacking their belongings and I stare at the outskirts of the forest, having no idea what kind of wood will be suitable for burning. Bofur must notice my befuddled expression, as he offers to come along with me in my search for firewood. I gratefully accept, a little unnerved by the prospect of being out in the woods and not knowing what is out there.

The two of us walk awkwardly beside each other through the edge of the forest, Bofur clutching onto his mining mattock and picking at its leather strap whist I stare at the ground, trying desperately to think of every camping show and remnants of bear Grylls shows I've ever seen; unfortunately, I don't think drinking my own urine or making a wet-suit out of a seal carcass is going to help me here.

_Come on, Alice,_ I scald myself, _use your mind palace._

_The mind palace is not in working order._

I shrug my shoulders and reach down to the nearest large twig; Bofur twiddles his fingers in my direction and says,

"Heavens no, not that, Miss Lavender. That's green wood, it won't burn at all."

I sigh. "I've got no idea what I'm doing, if I'm honest."

He smiles. "I thought as much; here." He crouches beside a few loose twigs and snags them up with a curl of his fist. "These will do; we'll need lots of these, a few as big as your arm and a nice flat one to set it all on. Make sure you pick up dry ones, too; the dryer the better."

The two of us hunt the wood down for a good while; as we do so, Bofur hums a gentle tune, another song about gold and mountains and slaying Dragons.

"That should do it," Bofur smiles, "let's get this back; there should be enough supplies food-wise to cook up another day or so's worth. There's potatoes, carrots, a little rabbit, I think. Pair that with a few of these beauties-" Bofur reaches down and uproots a sprig or two of some wild-growing garlic- "and you've got a stew fit for a king, which it's going to have to be seeing as Thorin will be eating it."

"That smells amazing," I say, referring to the garlic, and Bofur wipes the mud off one of the sprigs with his fingers and hands it over to me.

"Keep it in your pocket," he advises me. "It's supposed to be good luck; perhaps it's all old superstition, but we need all the luck we can get on this journey... come on, Lass. Let's get back and I'll teach you how to get this fire going."

Back at camp Bofur sits me away from the others that the fire might have a little more leeway and he will be able to discreetly direct me. He pulls out a hunting knife and whittles a notch into the largest piece of wood we have collected, kneeling atop it before leaning forwards and grabbing the ends of a lock of my hair; he slices the ends of the curl off and rolls it up in his gloved hands, pushing the tuft down into the notch.

"Needs a little tinder," he explains, "you'll be as bald as Dwalin by the end of our journey."

Then he begins sharpening one of the thicker twigs, pushes it into the notch and tells me to start building up the pyre whilst he tries to catch a flame.

"The little twigs, then the larger and so on, if you please," he chimes, working hard to light the wood; after a long time it begins to catch, and Bofur grins. "I'll finish up here, you go and ask that brother of mine for the stew ingredients," he says, blowing lightly on the wood to encourage the new born ember. I do so and bring the sack, water supply and culinary instruments over to Bofur's handiwork, which is now blazing rather magnificently. He stares at it with wide, proud eyes, tapping me on the back as I sit down beside him.

"Well then, my lovely, best get started on this stew."

I stare at the ingredients, removing them slowly from their canvas packaging in order to give myself as much time as possible; the rabbit is wrapped up in fabric, and my health-and-safety alarm bells start to ring wildly. The smell of the meat is vile, and its slimy pink, sinewy texture makes it look repulsive. I quickly wrap it back up and put it aside, breathing through my mouth as not to inhale the stench of the meat.

Bofur still sits next to me, and I get the feeling from his silence that he has begun to gather that something is up. I take the knife which he has left beside the fire, wipe it clean with a little of the water on the hem of my dress and begin peeling the potatoes into my lap.

"No, don't skin the things," Bofur directs me, "the skin is good for you, makes it a little tougher. Just chop it, like this."

He takes the knife and vegetable from me and proceeds to do it himself whilst I prep the cauldron over the fire. I bring a little of the water to boil over the fire, imagining that to be the next logical step, and watch as Bofur scrapes the chopped potatoes into the pit. He crunches the garlic with his bare hands and drops it in, leaves and all.

"I get the feeling you're not entirely sure about all this," Bofur says quietly, nipping the ends off the carrots, "am I right, Miss?"

I restrain a frown, but cannot maintain it as Bofur looks at me, his kind eyes questioning.

"I don't know all that much about cooking," I admit to him. "...Well, not that much at all, really. But I'm learning. I'll get better, I know I will," I reassure him, and for once I'm not actually lying; I plan to dedicate a large portion of my time back home studying those recipe books and finding out all about outdoors cooking. By the end of this journey I'll be the Gordon Ramsey of Middle-Earth.

Though he tries to maintain a strict expression, I sense the glimmer of a smile near Bofur's teeth.

"You naughty little minx," he says in a flurry, "sneaking our way onto quests under false pretenses, are we?" I give a shy smile and Bofur laughs. "It's nice, in a way; shows you have some spirit about you. But what makes a girl like yourself want to come out on a quest to slay a Dragon?"

"Trust me," I say, cracking open some pea shells and entering their contents into the pot; Bofur gestures for me to add the shells, too, and I do so. "I'm not here for the Dragon."

"What is it you're after, then? A little adventure?"

I smile and shake my head. "I just want to get home. And I can't do that without the Wizard's help; he's here, so I am, too. Well, he _was_ here. What about you, Bofur? What convinced you to come along?"

"Me?" he says dismissively, pulling the meat into thinner braids with his fingers, "oh, I'm just here for the craic. Now, Lass, take note- when cooking rabbit, you really have to be careful of the colour of it..."

Bofur helps me along with the recipe, and we manage to brew up a half-decent stew between the pair of us. I couldn't be more grateful to the Dwarf; I thank him continuously in a quiet voice, and he shrugs off my hapless mewling with a smile.

"He's been a long time, Gandalf," says Bilbo as the night gets darker, fussing left and right.

"He's a Wizard," Bofur reassures him, dishing out the now tepid stew, "he does as he chooses; here, do us a favour, Bilbo. Take these to the lads."

Bofur thrusts two pots of stew into the Hobbit's tiny hands, and Bilbo scurries off to the forest. The group of us sit merrily for a good few minutes, slurping away at the rather delicious stew which Bofur has been quite bold in making sure that everyone hears that it is my concoction.

"Bringing along a cook was a good idea," Nori calls from across the camp, "delicious, this is."

"The garlic leaves give it a particular charm," Dori adds.

"Scrumptious," notes Ori.

Bofur throws me a wink and I mime him another thank you, wondering just where Gandalf has got to; my train of thought is shattered as Fili bursts into the clearing, hair adrift and blithering wildly about some danger in the forest; the entire company stands on cue, ears pricked as Fili hisses,

_"Trolls!"_

**AN: CANON TIME WOO**

**Just... Bofur. I love Bofur.**

**Grab your tickets, boys and girls, the good ship Lili has sailed! 99% of you guys like Lili as the name, so there we go- Lili it is!.**

**Can I just say that I found out the cutest thing about Ori today, and will definitely be incorporating it into the story. He is a little angel and I love him.**


	15. Chapter 15: To Cook a Dwarf

**_AN: Guys, I demand that for this chapter you open up a youtube tab and play 'Yackety Sax' when you see this symbol: (*). Seriously, trust me on this one. It just makes it 10,000 times better._**

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen:**

**To Cook a Dwarf**

_My train of thought is shattered as Fili bursts into the clearing, hair adrift and blithering wildly about some danger in the forest; the entire company stands on cue, ears pricked as Fili hisses,_

_"Trolls!"_

Before I know it the group of us are racing through the thickets of the trees, all with weapons drawn including myself, by chance having still had Bofur's hunting knife. The idea of trolls has barely had time to register in my head_; as in under-the-bridge, gobble-up-your-Billy-Goat's type of Troll? The type of Troll who hangs out on 4-Chan, making distasteful jokes and trying to convince the general population of the internet that they believe absurd and offensive things for attention-?_

_...Oh. _

_No, not that type._

_The bone-crunching, galumphing, ten-foot terrifying type._

I stare up at the huge grey creatures as we crouch low in the bushes; in the distance I notice Kili, himself bent low behind a rock.

"Stay hidden," Fili says to me, priming his weapons.

"Aye," Gloin adds in a husky drawl, trying to keep his voice in as low a whisper as possible, "the battlefield is no place for a lady."

"I can't just sit here while the rest of you go out there-!"

"Shh! You cannot come out, either; you have no weapon."

"Look, I've got this knife-"

"That is for killing rabbits," Fili dismisses, "those are_ trolls._ Besides, you have no training."

"But I want to help, surely I can do _something-!"_

"You will listen to my nephew and do as you are told," Thorin barks in his sullen voice, "you were not brought along to argue. You will stay hidden until we have dealt with the troll menace."

"Fine," I say stubbornly. "I'll just stay here and be completely and utterly _useless."_

I can practically feel Thorin's thoughts bouncing around within my own skull;

_No change there, then._

Kili jumps out suddenly, flinging himself before the creatures and attacking the huge feet of the one nearest to him.

"Drop him!" he yells up at the beasts with a spin of his sword.

_Oh, wow. That was rather attractive. Drop who...?_

It is then that I realize that Bilbo is suspended from the fingers of one of the creatures, hung upside-down by his large hairy feet. One of the trolls leans closer to the battle-ready Dwarf.

"You what?!"

"I said," Kili begins with another swing of his sword, heaving a breath and scowling a grin, _"drop him."_

_Again; that was pretty h-o-t._

**(*) **

Suddenly Thorin leads his cavalry, and the platoon of Dwarves charge forwards; I stare at their backs a moment before squeezing the knife in my fist and charging after them with a battle cry like I'm Maximus Meridius incarnate, flinging myself into the throw of battle; Fili catches sight of me immediately and practically hurls me back into the bushes, receiving a kick to his side by one of the Trolls as punishment for his moment's lapse. I find my feet again and realize that maybe they were right; _well, of course they were._ I'm no fighter, but I can't just sit back and do _nothing..._ I won't.

That is when I catch sight of Bilbo.

I run along the thickets of the forest edge and spring myself beside the Hobbit; he battles fruitlessly with ropes which have been bound around a group of four ponies, one of whom I recognise to be Thorin's. I pull the knife and begin sawing them free, one eye on the battle as the Dwarves stab and roar and cry out, being thrown about left and right in their attempt to slaughter the bumbling beasts. I watch as Ori fires a stone into the eye of one of the creatures, who proceeds to pick him up by his head as he runs out of harm's way; Thorin uses Dwalin's broad back as a stepping stone to gain leverage and jumps at the beast with a yell, slashing a thick red gash at the creature's arm with his sword. Nori actually rams his blade up the behind of the Troll who threw his younger brother, and the beast falls to the floor with a squeal before Dwalin knocks its teeth out of its rancid skull with his metal mallet.

"They're loose!" Bilbo says to me, and we haul open the tiny fence gate and release Myrtle, Minty, Daisy and Bungle back into the wild of the forest; I turn back to the others to see one of the Trolls with its huge first wrapped around Bofur's waist, the Dwarf's hands fumbling for his dropped sword as the Troll squeezes the life out of him. Almost instinctively I charge at the creature, stabbing through the thick nail of its thumb with the hunting knife; the beast shrieks in pain and releases Bofur, batting me away with the palm of its hand; I jolt, still clinging to the blade which is now lodged in the nail of the beast, and it tries to shake me loose- realising I'll probably be safer getting the hell out of his way rather than clinging onto the knife like a mosquito to flesh, I release my grip on the blade- I feel myself go flying through the air and for a moment it's all rather serene; that is, of course, until I make contact with something solid and roaring which just happens to be the Dwarven King. Thorin hauls me to my feet by the top of my arm and practically throws me back towards the forest; it appears that the battle has reached a stalemate. All the Dwarves are gathered together, silent and heaving exhausted breaths, none of them daring to make a move. I follow the direction of Thorin's eyes and see why.

"Bilbo!" Kili yells, trying to run forwards, but his uncle stops him.

"Lay down your arms!" one of the Trolls growls, holding Bilbo outstretched like Prometheus waiting for Ethon to come down and tear out his liver. "Or we'll rip his off!"

Reluctantly Thorin obliges, which sets off a chain reaction; Kili throws him a wild disbelieving look accompanied by a total of four horrified double-takes, unable to understand why his uncle is surrendering, but stabs his sword into the soil all the same. I do a mental head-count and realize that everyone is present and alive... for now, at least.

"Get the sacks!" the most intelligent of the Trolls yammers, "stick them in the sacks! Come on! Get up!"

I don't like the sound of sacks; despite our protests and a series of running in circles to escape the Troll's hands which rather deserves the company of the Benny Hill theme, eventually all of us are caught and bagged up like sausages at the meat market.

"Put some on the spit to roast," one of the trolls suggests; the huge hand currently carrying me seems to hover between the open fire and the slowly growing pile of Dwarves who are to be cooked later, Thorin and Kili included.

_Please not the spit roast, please not the spit roast-_

By some miracle my prayers are answered, and I am roughly thrown into the pile with Kili and the others. I end up with my feet by Thorin's face and my head by Kili's feet, trying my best to wriggle out of Thorin's way; he already dislikes me enough without having to deal with a face full of foot to add to his disdain.

"Oh!" Bofur yelps from the spit roast which is slowly turning now, his face aflame with sweat and rouge, "that's hot, that's hot, that's _hot-!"_

"Let us down, you great oafs!" Nori growls, "eat someone your own blinking size!"

"We are the descendants of the line of Durin the Deathless!" Dwalin roars from the turntable, fire in his eyes, "you cannot _cook _the descendants of Durin the Deathless-!"

"Well, actually Dori, Nori and I aren't related to the great Durin-"

"Oh, _shut up,_ Ori!"

"He's right- don't bother with cooking them," the skinniest of the trolls proclaims, "let's just sit on them and squash them into jelly."

"No!" another troll who seems to fancy himself the new Heston Blumenthal proclaims, "they should be sautéed and grilled with a sprinkle of sage!"

"...That does sound quite nice."

"Never mind the seasoning," the most competent of the beasts growls, "we ain't got all night, the dawn ain't far away. Let's get a move on; I don't fancy being turned to stone."

"Wait!' Bilbo cries, struggling to his feet within the bag and jumping before the Trolls, "you are making a terrible mistake!"

"You can't reason with them!" Dori yells, "they're half-wits!"

_"'Half-wits?!'_" Bofur cries, the ends of his plaits singing in the flames, "then what does that make us?!"

"I... I meant with the seasoning," Bilbo tries desperately. The group of us look to him in horror.

"What about the seasoning?" One of the trolls growls; Bilbo shrugs forwards, frowning.

"Well, have you smelt them? You're gonna need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up-"

The entire assembly of Dwarves and myself burst into a cascade of yells; for a few moments I eye the Hobbit carefully, roaring my own protests, before realizing he is trying to bide us all a little time.

"Shut up!" a troll yells to the group of us writhing on the floor, "let the Flurgaburbur-Hobbit talk. What do you know about cooking Dwarf?"

"Well... uh... the secret to cooking Dwarf is..."

_"Yes?! _Come on, tell us the secret-!"

"It's, uh... to... uh... "

"Traitor!" Bombur yells, "he's trying to save his own skin-!"

_Skin._

_Oh, Bilbo Baggins, don't you dare-_

"...to skin them first!"

"Oh, well done, Big Foot!" I cry in sarcastic outrage, wriggling within the bag desperately, "someone hand that Hobbit a Nobel prize!"

"What?!" Ori yammers, shaking on the spit-roast, _"skin us?!"_

"What do you want to skin us for, what have we ever done to you?!"

"Is this about not using the cheese knife?! It is, isn't it?!"

"I'll skin _you,_ you little hairy-footed bastard! I won't forget this, Hobbit!" Dwalin roars, "I won't forget it-!"

"What a load of rubbish!" the thinnest of the vile Trolls growls, "I've eaten plenty with their skins on. Scoff them, I say, boots and all. Nothing wrong with a bit of raw Dwarf... nice and crunchy."

"You can't eat Al dente Dwarf!" I try, "it's not good for the... uh... digestive tract!"

"Shut up, you!"

A giant hand comes down upon us, and the Troll takes hold of Bombur and purses him dangling above his lips.

"Quite the meaty morsel, this one is..."

His second hand comes down and hovers over Kili then Balin; I kick out at its thumb angrily, yelling along with the others, and the hand picks me up instead.

_Oh, just wonderful._ I fly through the air, screaming the whole time, to hang upside-down above the stinking hole in the Troll's face. I look down hopelessly at the roaring Dwarves below, all of whom are protesting against mine and Bombur's predicament- all but Thorin, who looks as though my being consumed by three salivating Trolls would serve only as a humongous relief.

"Put me down, you ugly bastard!" I shriek, refusing to move encase I should be loosened and fall into his gaping mouth, "oh my God, _help!"_

"I haven't tasted girl in _weeks,"_ the Troll growls to his partners, "what a treat! I've never tasted female Dwarf before, haven't seen one leave the mountains-"

"I'm not a Dwarf!" I shriek, "do I look like a Dwarf to you, you cheeky-!?"

"The meat is far softer on females," the Troll tells his companions as I hurl insults at it, "more tender...perhaps we could tenderize it even further! Oh, what a treat! Bert, pass me a rock, a sharp one!"

"I'll tenderize you in a minute, you ugly git!" Kili roars at the creature, "you leave her alone!"

"Put the lass down, you vile creature-!"

"Put them both down, you great galumphing half-wits-!"

"Not that one!" Bilbo yells as the troll slams me to the ground and takes hold of a rock, ready to bash my head in and tenderize me to perfection, "she's... uh... infected."

"You what?!" Kili yells, "what are you on about, you horrible little-!"

"She's got worms!" Bilbo proclaims over the sound of Kili's ranting, "in her... _tubes?_ ...Yes. In her tubes. In- in fact, they all have, they are all_ infested_ with parasites. It's a terrible, terrible business; I wouldn't risk it, I really wouldn't."

Disgusted, the troll throws Bombur to the ground beside me and kicks us both back into the pile of Dwarves. I yell in pain, falling half-on top of Kili with a heavy thud.

_"Parasites?!"_ Kili cries, affronted, face muffled into the back of my hair; I wiggle free and fall into the welt between he and Thorin. Oakenshield stares down at me with blank revulsion in his eyes. "Did he say _"parasites"?!"_

Oin shakes his head at the Hobbit. "What are you talking about, Laddie?!"

"We don't have parasites!" Kili yells angrily, thrashing left and right in his burlap sack, "_you _have parasites-!"

"Shut your face!" I hiss, and Thorin sends a sharp kick at his nephew; Kili immediately turns to his uncle's alert, and Thorin gives him a look which shows him the information he needs. Realization sweeps through the rest of the Dwarven party, and suddenly they can find no end to elaborating on the majesty and horror of their imaginary inhabitants.

"I've got parasites as big as my arm!"

"Well," Gloin roars, "I've got nits, to boot!"

"I've got parasites, and so has my brother, too!" Fili yells from the spit-roast, blowing the ends of his moustache braids as they almost catch in the flame.

"I've got huge parasites!" Kili cries out desperatley, "mine are the biggest parasites-!"

"And so are mine!" I intrude. "We're practically _flooded!"_

_"Riddled!"_

Yes, we're all riddled!"

"Yes, we are, very badly!"

"And very gladly!"

"What would you have us do, then?" one of the Trolls demands of Bilbo, "let them all go?! You think I don't know what you're up to... this little ferret is taking us for fools!"

_Busted,_ I think; _now we're all going to die. Well, it was good whilst it lasted- goodbye, cruel world. _

That is when our salvation arrives in the form of an old bearded man in a dress with a magical stick and a funny hat.

"The dawn will take you all!"

_God, I love Wizards. _

There is a huge crackling sound as the Wizard strikes the rock with his staff; it splits, sending a cascade of the first rays of the day's sunlight over the clearing; the trolls scream and squirm and, right before our eyes, splinter and crackle into lifeless cold stone. There is cheering, and a lot of it; Gandalf comes down to meet us and begins cutting the band of us free. _Dumbledore, eat your heart out._

"Gandalf! That is lucky!" I sing with relief, finding my way to my feet and watching him with fond eyes as he helps the Dwarves down from above the fire, "oh, you brilliant old wizard; I could kiss you, I really could!"

"Wouldn't you rather kiss me, instead?" Fili jests, slicing open the back of the sack I'm tied in and helping me to shrug it off; I spin around and fling my arms around his neck with relief, almost squeezing the life out of him.

"I could kiss you all!" I practically shriek, "you and Bombur and Bofur and Bifur and Dori and Nori and- oh, Ori, you beautiful little bearded man!"

I take hold of Ori by his cheeks and kiss his forehead sharply over his long bowl fringe before holding him at arm's length and grinning up at his face; he blushes with a shy smile, clearly embarrassed. I tap him on his head and continue,

"And Gloin and Oin, and even _you,_ Thorin, you miserable old sock-!"

I spin around in my joy to find Kili stood there, his hair dishevelled and his dark eyes gleaming with the relief of having survived the night's perils.

_Oh, wow._

_Hello, gorgeous._

"...Not me, then?"

I feel all the blood drain from my face and then bloom back into my cheeks with full force._ Oh, you beautiful little man, if only I wasn't so terribly prudish and awkward and that uncle of yours wasn't glaring at me from over your shoulder like a hawk. You'd need a new pair of lips by the time I was finished with you._

I don't tell him this, of course. Instead I smile as shyly as Ori had, staring at Kili like a fool, until Bofur hooks an arm around my shoulders _(ever the savior)_ and begins to lead me out towards the forest with the aim of collecting up the run away ponies, who have bolted a little further out and are now chewing on more of the wild garlic stems.

"I told you it was lucky," Bofur grins, gesturing to the bulbs, "can't beat a little garlic."

I grin. "Or maybe it's just the luck of the Irish... but then again, you wouldn't be... oh, never mind. All hail the garlic."

"Aren't we going to sleep?" I ask rather sadly as Bofur prepares one of the ponies for riding, "we've been awake all night."

"No rest for the wicked," Bofur says in his familiar cheer, brushing his pony down before pulling himself into the saddle. "Come in, Lass. You can ride with me today."

I find myself wishing I had managed to get some sleep earlier as I struggle up onto the equine, stumbling a total of three times before finally managing it; I grip Bofur's waist and he clicks his tongue thrice, leading the pony to turn on its tail and head back towards camp.

* * *

**AN: GUYS.**

**At the risk of sounding like a drivelling, blithering idiot-**

**ASDFGHJKL THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU ALL I'M CRYING DYING **

**I cannot believe that I've been writing this for two weeks and it already has over 200 reviews. And 150 followers. I just- potato.**

**Seriously... I can't. I think everyone of FF thought I was a miserable bastard because my other two fics are all about prison and murder and rape and suicide and other horrible, hideous things. It took me like a year to post the first chapter because I've never written comedyish stuff before and I was really scared that I would be awful at it. The fact that people actually have the same retarded sense of humor as me is just... flurbgurb. I hope I can continue to make you laugh for many, many moons more.**

**And again- thank you.**

**FLURB!**

**Oh, and one more thing... I will now forever refer to Thorin as the 'old sock'.**

**And one more 'one more' thing... did you play the Yackety Sax music whilst you read it? Because if not...**


	16. Chapter 16: Rustabell Rabbits

**Chapter Sixteen:**

**Rustabell Rabbits**

_I grip Bofur's waist and he clicks his tongue thrice, leading the pony to turn on its tail and head back towards camp. _

When we get there, the others are nowhere to be found; we wander aimlessly for a minute before Dori spots us through the trees and calls us over. When we reach the spot we find that half of the group are inside a cave; Dori informs us that it is occupied by the Troll's treasure, and Bofur jumps down to get a look. I think to myself that it is probably best for me to stay up here seeing as it took me forever to get on the pony in the first place, but my curiosity gets the better of me and I climb down the stirrup.

"You haven't changed your dress yet," Kili notes, and I look down to see that yes, I am still wearing the mud-streaked skater dress. I grab the heavy cotton dress he payed for back at the farmer's house, run off into the woods as far as I dare and change into the dress. It's a little loose, seeing as it is made for a fully-sized woman, and not a Dwarf-sized moi, and it is far too long- I drag myself back through the forest, fighting with the too-high neckline of the dress which is currently choking me, and ask Kili for his blade as he adjusts one of the pony's loose hooves.

"Here," he says, turning to me and grabbing the edge of my skirt; I freeze as he tears through the fabric, cutting the dress in a jagged pattern just above my ankles. I side-glance at Fili, who watches the pair of us with a half-amused, half-confused expression, and I feel myself blush again. He wraps his arms around the side of my legs and pulls free the last shed of fabric; I step out of it, gather up the fabric and throw him a smile.

"Thanks."

Kili smirks up at me and turns back to the pony, mumbling to her soothingly as she kicks out her leg to avoid his handiwork.

For lack of anything else to do and heightened curiosity, I poke my head into the mouth of the cave.

_Oh, wowsaz._

The dingy cave stinks to high heaven, but I hardly notice the smell due to what lies inside- the cavern sparkles with gold and silver, a hoard of weaponry and treasure beyond measure. We gather a few things, swords and the like; Gandalf hands one to me, complete with a strap, and I pull it over my shoulder gratefully. Thorin soon demands that we leave the hole, and we emerge back into the daylight; Kili stands admiring some of the treasures Bifur has brought forth.

"That was amazing," I say to no one in particular. "If this mountain of yours looks anything like that, then I cannot wait to get there."

"Erebor holds a thousand times what lies in that filthy cave," Balin smiles proudly.

"What's that?" Kili says, gesturing to the scabbard at my shoulder; I glint my sword in his direction with a smirk.

"It's a sword," I chime. "I carry a sword now."

Kili raises his eyebrows, pretending to be impressed. I sticky tongue out at him and adjust the strap on my shoulder.

"That's a little big for you, isn't it?" Fili teases from behind me, and I throw him a look over my shoulder which shows that I am not amused. He moves around me and stops in front of my face in mock-intimidation, smirking as he unsheathes the sword at my side, holding it between us and running his fingers across its blade.

"It's nice, this." He eyes the blade with an envious wince. "All we have to do now is teach you how to use it."

"Would you like some peanut butter to go with that look, Fili?" I ask him, grabbing the hilt of my sword- my sword- and attempting to pull it back towards myself, "because I can see that you're jelly."

"I have no idea what you said just, but I am certain that I did not like it," the Dwarf smirks, maneuvering the sword and pushing it back into its holster by my side. I wince a little at its weight, but try not to show my discomfort to the grinning Dwarf. He backs up with a mock bow and says,

"Mine is bigger."

_"Overcompensating,"_ I mutter as he walks away.

There is a sudden noise that startles the entire company; all weapons are drawn, my own included as Thorin roars,

"Something is coming! Stay together! Hurry now, arm yourselves!"

_"Thieves!"_ someone yells through the bush, _"thieves!"_

_Oh, brilliant,_ I think. _Just what we need; more trouble._

"What have you stole this time, Nori?!" Dori yells to his brother, before the bush rumbles again with speech.

"Fire! _Murder!"_

_...Well, unless Nori is an arsonist with an insatiable blood lust as well as a kleptomaniac, the voice might not be speaking about our group. _

A sled pulled by rabbits- yes, I'm just going to breeze over that one and pretend it's completely normal- suddenly appears through the bush, a man barely taller than the Dwarves riding on it; I can only assume that he is the vegan alternative to Father Christmas. He blusters down from his podium and Gandalf releases a sigh of combined joy and relief.

"Radagast!" the Wizard cries happily, "It's Radagast the Brown!"

The two talk about Wizard-type things for a while; I find that I'm far too distracted by the appearance of this brown Wizard to register what they are babbling on about. From beside me, Dwalin begins to chuckle.

"You've noticed the bird refuse, then, Lass," he grumbles; I nod, staring at the streak of white within Radagast's wild, bramble-filled hair, and Dwalin gives another quite terrifying laugh that practically shakes my bones. I glance over to him; I don't know whether to be absolutely terrified of this particular Dwarf or to treat him like Barney the Dinosaur, my own Bear in the Big Blue House. He is hard and scary, yet soft, too. Crunchy on the outside and gooey on the inside, like a bubble-gum filled lollipop. Somehow I don't think Dwalin would appreciate being compared to a gumball lollipop if he knew what one was.

Just then there is a terrible howling sound; immediately our entire group draw arms again. I unsheathe my blade for the first time and feel a sudden wave of bad-assery. _I could definitely get used to this._

"Was that a wolf?!" Bilbo stutters, "are there wolves out there?"

"Wolves?" Bofur murmurs, raising his mattock, "no, that is not a wolf."

The growling gets suddenly closer, and I practically feel the sound at the back of my neck; I turn to see a huge grey-white beast, yellow teeth gnashing and narrow eyes glinting. It bounces forwards and the group of us pounce out of its way; Thorin strikes it across the back of its head, leaving it unconscious. Another appears behind him.

"Kili!" Thorin yells; the young Dwarf jumps to attention, reaching behind his back for an arrow. "Get your bow!"

The young Dwarf obliges and shoots an arrow with surprising accuracy right into the eye of the creature. Dwalin thwacks the beast over the head thrice with his mallet, and it howls no more.

I feel a pang of sadness as the creature mumbles, despite the fact it was probably about to tear my head clean off my shoulders. It lies there howling like a wounded dog. I step forwards to kneel before it as it dies to try and offer it a little comfort; Kili creates a barricade across my front with his arm, shaking his head.

"It's just an animal-"

"That is no animal. They are Warg scouts, which means an Orc pack is not far behind!" Thorin growls, finishing both beasts off with a sharp strike of his blade. I wince as the second beast whimpers aloud then goes still.

"Orcs?!" I squeak... _as in the attack-in-the-night-no-screams-just-blood-hack-your-grandfather's-head-off Orcs?!_

Gandalf and Thorin begin to argue; Dwalin stamps between the pair and barks,

"We have to get out of here!"

"We can't!" Ori cries from atop one of the hillocks, "we have no ponies, they've bolted!"

Radagast offers to draw the beasts away, on some claim that his rabbits are of a particular breed, Rustabell or something along those lines, so there is no way the huge wolves will stand a chance against he and his sled. Gandalf agrees, a little reluctantly, gathering his robes around him and preparing for flight as the brown Wizard and his troop of rabbits dart off through the forest.

"We need to move," Thorin declares. "Run, all of you. _Run!"_

The next thing I'm aware of is the running; running, running, running, and lots more running. For the first time in my life, I find myself wishing I'd actually put in a little effort during Physical Education lessons; I try my best to control my breathing, but the impulse to just run as fast as I can and think about the consequences later proves far more effective as I follow the troop of Dwarves through the forest. They are quicker than me, every single one of them, even Balin. Despite my panic I find myself hoping that Dwarves are somehow superior to humans with regards to athletics and pray that I'm not just being outrun by a very, very old man.

"Move yourself, Lavender!" Fili shouts back; I try my hardest to keep up, but it's pretty much impossible. _Curse you, childhood asthma._

_If you don't hurry up, you're going to die_, I think to myself, and find that my legs suddenly think that speeding up is a very good idea indeed; adrenaline charges through my veins and I find myself back amongst the others, even overtaking a few. I feel an arm on my own and look up to see that it's Kili; he pulls me onwards, taking a little of the weight off my own feet, and we find ourselves at the front of the group, behind only Thorin and Gandalf now.

"There are more coming!" Thorin shouts to us all. I glance over to see that he is right; there are at least half a dozen of the Warg creatures, being ridden by large greyish-white creatures which I can only reason to be the Orcs. They are chasing Radagast left and right around the fields, and I get the sudden horrifying vision of chunks of rabbit and peat-covered Wizard flying into the air if the procession are caught. Thorin halts us all behind a large rock, and we freeze as one of the Wargs and its rider come to a stop on top of our hillock. Thorin gives Kili a glare and an expectant nod that says quite clearly; _'Well come on, then, what are you waiting for?! Shoot it!' _

The young Dwarf understands the gesture immediately, drawing his bow and leaning away from the rest of us; he shoots two arrows up at the creature and its rider, bringing the pair down before us, where Dwalin and Bifur set about bludgeoning the two. Kili has his eyes on me as I watch in blunt horror, before drawing an arrow and shooting it through the Warg's eye, killing it immediately as the two older Dwarves continue to chop.

"You should not feel sympathy for them," he instructs me, voice colder than usual. "They will find no sympathy for you."

"Move!" roars Gandalf, and I realize that the others are now pursuing us, and Radagast is nowhere to be seen. _"Run!"_

We sprint across the fields again, and I have the sudden horrifying visualization of myself pulling some horror-movie style fall and holding up the entire group, probably killing myself and a good few of them in the process. I do not, by some miracle, enact that terrible cliché- I continue to run as quickly as I can, Kili once again pulling me along; he is far quicker than I ever will be, and I realize that I am slowing him down and try to shrug him off.

"What are you doing?!" he roars, exhausted, squeezing tighter at my arm, _"run!"_

"This way!" Gandalf calls; we follow his order, but the group soon finds itself dispersed as the Wizard seems to disappear.

"Where did he go?!" I yell. _"Gandalf!"_

"He's abandoned us!"

"There's more coming!" Kili yells, releasing me and fumbling for his bow.

"Kili," Thorin roars, "Shoot them!"

"We're surrounded!" Fili yells, backing up towards his uncle.

Kili fires arrow upon arrow at the oncoming creatures, but it is no use; soon enough, they will be upon us. We gather in around one of the larger rocks, prepared to meet our doom with full force; I draw my sword, utterly petrified, and pray that we all die as quickly as possible.

"Hold your ground!" Thorin yells to us all, his own sword bared in front of him. The Wargs and their riders draw in, and I suck in a deep breath, closing my eyes.

It is then that, once again, Gandalf saves the day at the very last minute.

"This way, you fools!" The Wizard hollers, popping his head out from over the large rock expanse behind us, "come on, move, quickly! Come on!"

"Go, go, go!"

"Move, all of you!" Thorin orders, hopping atop the rock and beckoning us all closer; we don't need telling twice. We charge for the rock, and as I reach its edge, I realise that it is the mouth of another cave and freeze for a second in surprise; Thorin growls and pushes me by the back of my neck, practically hurling me into the hole, and I skid down the side of the rock's face with a yelp, landing on top of Oin and Bilbo. Gandalf begins counting us all as we gather in the abyss; from above, I see Thorin still swinging his sword.

"Kili!" he yells to his nephew, still firing arrows at the oncoming storm, "Run!"

Fili slides in then and lands on top of me; Oin and Bilbo growl in pain, and the pair of us try our best to stand; that is before Fili's younger brother and uncle slide inside, and we are all thrown to the cave floor in a heap. Gandalf finishes his head count and sighs with relief as we struggle to find our feet, apologising left right and centre.

"That is everyone."

Through the slit in the rock, a new sound emerges... that of a horn blowing. The Orcs and their Wargs cry out in agony as arrows fly above- we watch, dizzied, as a dead Orc comes soaring down the gap in the rock. Thorin draws the arrow from its chest and glares darkly at its metal head.

"Elves."

"I cannot see where the pathway leads!" Dwalin yells from a little further into the ravine, "do we follow it or not?"

"Follow it, of course!" Bofur scoffs, heading down the thin pathway, hat askew on his head. The group of us make haste after him, but Kili lingers, staring up at the sky and commotion above. He pokes the dead Orc with his foot, perhaps checking to see if it is really dead.

"Come on," I say, grabbing his shirt sleeve and pulling him onwards. The group of us head through the thin crevice, its tall grey alley walls preventing any light from shining in.

"Ooh... I'm feeling a little claustrophobic," I wheeze from the back of the line, squeezing through the thin slits in the rock.

"It's not that tight," Kili says from ahead.

"It's alright for you," I murmur, breathing in as we pass through the narrow route, "you haven't got boobs. How long is this passage, anyway?"

"Not long now!" Dwalin calls from the front, "I can see some light ahead!"

Sure enough, he is right; the ravine ends and opens out onto a series of steps carved into the rock. I stare ahead, breathing in the clear air with relief, and gasp at what I see.

There is a city carved into the cliff face adjacent to us, a beautiful town of sculpted rock and ornate buildings, running water and apple-green light dancing across the shimmering faces of the rock.

"Wow," I say, breathless; by the faces of the others, it is apparent they are not thinking the same.

"The Valley of Imladris," Gandalf proclaims. "In the common tongue it's known by another name; Rivendell."

"It's beautiful," I say, staring at the breath-taking sight with utter wonderment.

"Here lies the last homely house east of the sea," Gandalf continues. I feel a hand on my shoulder, and Thorin shoves me out of the way roughly that he might get to the Wizard.

"This was your plan all along," the Dwarf King growls at Gandalf, "to seek refuge with our enemy-!"

"You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield! The only ill will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself."

"You think the Elves will give our quest their blessing? We discussed this already, this was to be your mission alone-!"

"They will bring us no ills. Perhaps the phrase two birds one stone has not reached Ered Luin as of yet."

"They will try to stop us-!"

"Of course they will, but we have questions that need to be answered! If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact, respect and no small degree of charm... which is why all of you will leave the talking to me, Master Oakenshield."

There is a long trek down to the beautiful valley then, in which I am held utterly captivated by the landscape and craft-work of the place. We cross a final bridge after our long walk, feet aching, and make our way into a stone courtyard surrounded by grey sleet and evergreen moss. Each and every Dwarf looks incredibly uncomfortable, most shaking their heads and with their weapons still drawn. Two figures of stone stand over the passage, and I assume them to be representative of Elven soldiers; these Elves aren't going to be Dobby look a-likes, it seems.

As three of the Elven men appear atop a tall stone staircase, my presumptions are affirmed. One of them, dressed in a mauve tunic, plum-coloured cloak and a circlet in the shape of a widow's peak, begins to descend the steps with all the grace of a gliding swan. I stand enchanted by his appearance; his elbow-length russet hair flinches gently in the warm breeze, and the glow of his immaculate skin and narrow features is more than a little captivating.

"That's an Elf, then," Fili says from behind me, whispering with his younger sibling. "Looks like a woman."

"An ugly woman," Kili adds, and the two stifle their laughter.

The immaculate Elf glides down before us, hand on heart, and bows to Gandalf.

"Mithrandir."

"Ah, Lindir!" Gandalf smiles warmly, bowing in polite response. The two begin to witter away in a gentle foreign language, and I turn to Fili and Kili with a confused expression.

"Elvish," Fili explains.

"It sounds amazing," I breathe, listening in wonderment as the two practically sing their speech. The two brothers look a little offended.

"You haven't heard Dwarvish yet," Kili intrudes, "it's far better. A very old language. It's true name is Khuzdul."

"Do you two speak it?"

Fili smirks. "_Gaubdûkhimâ gagin yâkùlib Mahal, Mukhuh turgizu turug usgin, san-inh."_

"...What does that mean?" Whatever he said, it sounded angry, almost Germanic, but the light expression on his face would suggest otherwise.

_"May we meet again by the grace of Mahal,"_ Kili translates, grinning, _"and may your beard continue to grow longer, perfect lady."_

I grin. "Well, that was... enchanting. I'm flattered."

Kili nods proudly. At the head of the party, Gandalf and the Elf, Lindir, begin to speak again in the common tongue.

"I must speak with Lord Elrond."

"Lord Elrond is not here," Lindir explains.

"Not here? Where is he?"

There is a sudden thunder of hooves, and we turn about to see a platoon of Elven horses and riders heading right towards us; they charge across the bridge and begin to circle us.

"Close ranks!" Thorin demands. I feel Dwarven hands on my shoulders, and find myself being pushed in to the centre of the group with Bilbo as they form a cheap alternative to a Roman Tortoise Shell maneuver; a reluctant Kili is pushed into the centre with me, along with Ori; the four of us stand in the middle of the group like huddled penguins as the Elves swarm around us, riding high on horseback; they swirl in a whirlpool of silver hair, and come to a stop once their leader notices the Wizard in our company.

Their leader is taller than most of the others, dark hair windswept from his travels, wearing an oxblood-coloured suit of armour and wielding a glinting sword. He dismounts his steed and smiles at our company.

"Gandalf," the Elf calls with a gentle bow.

"Lord Elrond," the Wizard stoops, lower than a man of his age ought be able to bend.

"Strange for Orcs to come so close to our borders," the grand Elf drawls, "something- or _someone-_ has drawn them near."

"That... may have been us."

The Elf nods, and turns to the leader of our company.

"Welcome, Thorin, son of Thrain."

Thorin looks up at him darkly. "I do not believe we have met."

"You have your grandfather's bearing," Lord Elrond explains, "I knew Thror when he ruled under the Mountain."

"Indeed?" Thorin drawls, as reserved as he can keep himself. "He made no mention of _you."_  
_Ooh, burn._

_Someone give that Dwarf a cookie._

Elrond looks away with a faintly amused smile, turning back to Gandalf. The two converse in Elvish again, tongues twisting and rolling their '_r'_s in a quite magnificent way. I flex my own tongue, trying to recreate the sound in the back of my own throat.

"Rrr._ Rrrrrrrrrr-"_

Kili nudges me sharply.

"Stop it."

"What is he saying?!" Gloin demands in a voice like rock being splintered, charging forwards with an accusing finger pointed at the Elf Lord, "does he offer us insult-?!"

"No, Master Gloin," Gandalf proclaims in a dry tone, "he is offering you _food."_

The Dwarven company freeze a moment, then gather about my head, murmuring.

"I am rather peckish."

"Well I'm _starving-"_

"Why is this even open to discussion? It's _food!_ We haven't eaten since that stew last night."

"Perhaps they'll have chicken!"

The group disperse again, and Gloin clears his throat.

"Well," he grumbles, "in that case, lead on."

**AN: Huzahh, 4000 words!**

**The joys of hunting the internet for Khuzdul phrases- fun and very absurd fact, the American-English auto-correct on the FF site will allow me to use several words in Khuzdul, and yet will not allow me to spell 'realise', 'theatre' or 'armour' the British way. I have to add all of these to the dictionary because the little red 'YOU CANNOT SPELL!' lines drive me bezerk. **

**Had to get some Fili & Lav banter in this one. Fili's smirk just makes me smile, and I intend to write it into this fic AMAP. **

**Thanks for the reviews, boys and girls _(are there any boys reading this? I know there's one or two- hello to you, humans of the male persuasion!),_ and please do me a big fat, galumphing favour and leave one for this chapter. It would make me a very happy bunny.**


	17. Chapter 17: Gender Issues

**Chapter Fifteen:**

**Gender Problems**

_"What is he saying?!" Gloin demands in a voice like rock being splintered, charging forwards an accusing finger at the Elf Lord, "does he offer us insult-?!"_

_"No, Master Gloin," Gandalf proclaims in a dry tone, "he is offering you food."_

_"Well," he grumbles, "in that case, lead on."_

Lord Elrond extends his hand to the stairway, and we follow up after him and Gandalf. As we pass the guards with their immaculate visages and tall figures I find myself looking away, embarrassed at my own appearance; I'm covered in dirt, grease, and other unsightly tit-bits' from my journey through Middle Earth so far.

The Lord of Rivendell excuses himself at the entrance to the palace, and disappears to change; he returns a few minutes later wearing an extravagant robe of gold and crimson, his dark hair parted over his shoulders and brushed through. I marvel at the carvings in the walls and the ivy creeping up the high walls as we are lead through to an indoor garden room, which has been speedily prepared for us; there are two small stone tables set up with small chairs around them, and a group of Elven men and maidens have been brought in to spread food along the tables and to play ornate musical instruments of silver and gold.

I catch my first glimpse of the Elven maids- that is when I almost have a heart attack and my self-confidence is flushed down the toilet, evaporates from my core like steam off a window pane. They are the most beautiful things I have ever seen.

Awe, astonishment and jealousy flood through me as I behold the angelic beauties; all of them are tall with lean figures, round eyes and tiny rosebud mouths, hair flowing down their backs in either strands so straight they mimic waterfalls, or weighed-down loose curls which never seem to loosen, despite the heavy breeze. All of the Elves here, both male and female, are dark or red-haired and are wearing dresses of pale gold satin with velvet panels down their fronts. I take my seat before a male and female who sit plucking away at harps with gentle fingers behind me, whilst another Elven woman floats around the room playing a flute. Our party sit down rather uncomfortably, observing the food which has been laid out before us. It looks like something you would be offered at a Weight Watchers banquet. I've never been a big fan of leafy food- I glaze over the platters of salad and nuts with little interest, despite the fact that I'm rather hungry- listening to a bunch of trolls discussing the best way to cook you and a marathon-style run through a field can do that to a girl. There is, however, a lot of fruit- I eye the thinly sliced strawberries with eager eyes, not wanting to seem rude by being the first to eat something; the Dwarves do not share my sense of courtesy.

Dwalin, sat beside me, grabs hold of a ceramic bowl of lettuce leaves before us and delves his hand into the greenery; he throws the vegetation left and right before growling,

"Where's the meat?!"

Oin pokes at the shell of a quail egg with one of the salad servers, practically growling at the tiny morsel.

"Try it," Nori tempts his younger sibling from across the table, "just a mouthful."

Ori shakes his head, staring down at the leafy meals uneasily and placing a cabbage leaf down on the mat before him. "I don't like green food... have they got any chips?"

Gentle music continues to be played by the Elves; I look across to Kili, who is staring somewhere behind us, head bowed and eyes locked on to whatever is there. He looks utterly enchanted by whatever he sees, and slightly bewildered. I turn as subtly as possible to see one of the dark-haired Elven maids poised on a white driftwood chair, her fingers dancing delicately across her golden harp.

_Oh hells naw. Back up, Princess Perfect. Find your own Dwarf._

She watches Kili with wide, intrigued eyes, her taffy lips parted gently. _God, she is beautiful._ I feel an innate pang of envy at knowing that I can never compete with the beauty of these slender, angel-haired, flawless-skinned women who float around the Elf Lord's palace.

I turn back to Kili; he is smiling at the girl now, a wink having just fluttered in his bewitching eyes. I feel a burning flame of jealousy flicker in my soul, and find without meaning to that I am staring at the Dwarf with the most angered expression I can summon. He looks away from the Elf maiden and catches my eye first, then Dwalin's beside me; his face drops at the second glance, fear glazing it, and he begins to ramble wildly.

"Can't say I fancy Elf-Maids myself," he hurries, fingers plucking at the salad in front of him absently. Dwalin raises his brow, face otherwise set in stone, inviting Kili to go on. The young Dwarf turns to Bofur and says, "they're too thin."

Bofur nods with a smile in agreement, and Kili carries on. "They're all high cheekbones and creamy skin... not enough facial hair for me."

Bofur nods again as another dark-haired native passes by behind the pair; Kili glances up quickly at the elf's face before nudging Bofur.

"Although... that one over there's not bad."

I look up at the Elf Kili had admired a moment ago, and realize something that he has clearly not noticed; I nudge Dwalin with a malicious grin, who leans forwards in his chair with a smirk. Kili catches his eye and the older man says,

"Look again, Laddie. That's not an Elf-Maid."

Kili's face drops; I find myself grinning as he turns around to see that the _'not bad'_ Elf-Maid is, in fact, just an Elf, and definitely not of the maiden variety.

"I didn't know you were into boys, Kili," I grin teasingly; beside me Dwalin throws the boy a wink, and Kili's face contorts in horror.

"Very funny," Kili chokes as Bofur slaps him on the back, the entire table erupting with raucous laughter. Bombur throws a cherry tomato down the table and it bounces of Kili's temple, making him flinch; this causes even more laughter, and Kili frowns.

"Very funny."

"Do not bully my little brother," Fili jests, leaning across Bofur and stealing Kili's ale much in the way he did that first night in Bilbo's house, "it's not his fault that he cannot see a difference. Look at them all," the Dwarf says, a slightly mortified expression on his face as he observes the Elves, no longer joking. "They're all so... _hairless._ How are you supposed to distinguish the men from the women?"

"Some of us can't," Bombur smirks, referring to the incident moments ago. Kili flushes red.

"Surely it's just the same problem you guys have," I say with a shrug, "one of you said when I first met you that the beards make it difficult to tell whether someone's an Adam or an Eve."

"Yes, but at least Dwarven women have some... _form_ to them," Gloin interrupts. "A little meat on the bones, gives them a little shape; Elves all have the bodies of scrawny young boys."

"You can't tell Dwarven women by _shape!"_ Bofur proclaims, dismissing Gloin's absurdity, "anything that would give away a scrap of femininity is hidden behind their _beards-"_

"I'd take a beard over a bald face any day," Gloin cheers, "there's nothing more attractive on a woman than a good, solid beard."

The others jeer in agreement, and I get a sudden icky sense that this is conversation is the Dwarven equivalent to ogling over a girl's curves or legs. _Bearded is the new sexy, I suppose._

"Perhaps you ought try for a beard, Lassie," Dwalin suggests, "I'm sure it would suit you well."

"Unfortunately, I can't," I say with mock sorrow, "I'm physically incapable."

"Oh," Dori breathes sympathetically. "You poor lass."

"I've tried many times," I say in a dramatic voice, veiling my smile with a leaf of lettuce, "but to no avail. Not so much as bum-fluff will grow."

A few of the Dwarves mutter in sympathy. I glance up quickly to Kili to see that he is smirking behind his hand. I return the gesture as Bofur taps my hand from across the table reassuringly.

"I think you look fine as you are, lovely Lavender," he says sweetly, that kind smile on his face again, "beard or no beard."

"Thank you, Bofur."

"Well never mind about the beard," Nori tries to reassure me. "Looks aren't everything, as they say."

I glance back at the Elf-Maid who is playing the harp- she really is stunning. I don't know whether to break down in tears, scowl at her through envy or give her a wink myself.

"You've got a thing for brunettes, then?" I ask Kili quietly once the fever has died and the Dwarves are once again distracted by the food before them, cheering now that some sliced meat has been brought out. I pluck a piece of salami-looking meat from the platter opposing the young Dwarf, roll it into a ball and pop it into my mouth. I start twiddling the ends of my own hair, staring at them with mild disappointment. Kili swallows back a fistful of wafer thin meat and chokes,

"Yes- I mean, no- I... well, all hair colours are fine, I suppose. Yellows and whites and reds and oranges browns and blacks and... uh... blues."

_"Blues?"_

"...Yes. I suppose. I've never met a blue-haired woman, but I'm sure it would look... quite... fine. I suppose."

"The lad has never been overly picky," Oin says, biting into a sliced leg of lamb with all the gusto he can muster. "We ought keep an eye on him tonight; we don't want him disappearing with any of these bald-faced Elven maids."

"If he does that, I'll run him through," Fili says, flicking Kili's nose as the younger brother tries to hide his embarrassment again.

"You'll have to get in line," I tell him, nodding down at my sword. I smile and start picking at the platter of to my left; it is smothered with more cut strawberries and grapes, apples and pears zested with citrus so that they do not begin to turn brown; Kili watches from opposite me as I indulge in the floral banquet, his expression one of mild revulsion.

"How can you eat that stuff?" he asks me, "it's horrible."

"It's lovely," I scald him, "sure, I'd rather be eating a mars bar, but it's light- refreshing. Besides, you'll get scurvy if you don't get enough vitamin C."

"What's scurvy?'"

"You know, the pirate disease. Makes you all withered and shattered if you don't get your five-a-day."

Fili intrudes from beside Bofur, holding one of his moustache braids to the side as he pushes his food past it. "What's Fiva Day?"

I smile. "...Never you mind."

All goes quiet for a few minutes more; one of the Elves begins to play the flute behind us, and Nori, having just slipped some of the silverware inside his coat pocket, turns to her.

"Change the tune, why don't you?! I feel like I'm at a funeral."

Oin squints and adjusts his earpiece, clearly having not heard correctly.

"Did somebody _die-?"_

"Alright, Lads, there's only one thing for it," Bofur reasons, jumping from his seat and pouncing upon the table, kicking away a bowl of rocket and iceberg; the others jeer excitedly, and all goes quiet with expectation. The Elves cease their music-playing and stare in horror at the Dwarf's horrendous table manners.

Bofur points over to the stern-faced, immaculately dressed Lord Elrond and begins to sing to the company, arms outstretched and dancing on the table-top. The others join in, banging their cutlery and bobbing their heads as they sing along- well, I _say_ sing- Dwalin practically roars the entire number. I overcome my mild embarrassment and join in, a grin on my face as I clap along and stamp my feet to the Dwarves' lament.

_'There's an inn, a merry old inn_

_beneath an old grey hill,_

_And there they brew a beer so brown_

_That the Man in the Moon himself came down_

_One night to drink his fill._

_The ostler has a tipsy cat_

_that plays a five-stringed fiddle;_

_And up and down he runs his bow,_

_Now squeaking high, now purring low,_

_Now sawing in the middle._

_The landlord keeps a little dog_

_that is mighty fond of jokes;_

_When there's good cheer among the guests,_

_He cocks an ear at all the jests_

_And laughs until he chokes._

_They also keep a hornéd cow_

_as proud as any queen;_

_But music turns her head like ale,_

_And makes her wave her tufted tail_

_and dance upon the green._

_And O! the rows of silver dishes_

_and the store of silver spoons!_

_For Sunday there's a special pair,_

_And these they polish up with care_

_on Saturday afternoons._

_The Man in the Moon was drinking deep,_

_and the cat began to wail;_

_A dish and a spoon on the table danced,_

_The cow in the garden madly pranced,_

_and the little dog chased his tail._

_The Man in the Moon took another mug,_

_and then rolled beneath his chair;_

_And there he dozed and dreamed of ale,_

_Till in the sky the stars were pale,_

_and dawn was in the air._

_Then the ostler said to his tipsy cat:_

_'The white horses of the Moon,_

_They neigh and champ their silver bits;_

_But their master's been and drowned his wits,_

_and the Sun'll be rising soon!'_

_So the cat on his fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,_

_a jig that would wake the dead,_

_He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,_

_While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:_

_'It's after three!' he said._

_They rolled the Man slowly up the hill_

_and bundled him into the Moon,_

_While his horses galloped up in rear,_

_And the cow came capering like a deer,_

_and a dish ran up with the spoon._

_Now quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle;_

_the dog began to roar,_

_The cow and the horses stood on their heads;_

_The guests all bounded from their beds_

_and danced upon the floor._

_With a ping and a pong the fiddle-strings broke!_

_the cow jumped over the Moon,_

_And the little dog laughed to see such fun,_

_And the Saturday dish went off at a run_

_with the silver Sunday spoon._

_The round Moon rolled behind the hill_

_as the Sun raised up her head._

_She hardly believed her fiery eyes;_

_For though it was day, to her surprise_

_they all went back to bed!"_

"I know that one!" I proclaim happily through the cheers as the Dwarves finish their song, throwing bread, salad and fruit left-and-right across the table, "I know it!"

"Well, it is quite a popular one, Miss Lavender," Bofur reasons with a smile as Kili and Fili help him down from the table, "lots of variations, of course. You ought sing us yours."

"Ooh, God no," I say with a smile, "I'm not really one for solos."

"Go on," Kili goads with a grin, "just sing it."

"Yes, sing- sing it, Lass!"

"Okay, okay..." I clear my throat, blushing red as the company goes quiet to hear my sing my nursery rhyme. I can already tell that this is going to be embarrassing.

_"Hey diddle diddle,_

_The cat had a fiddle,_

_The cow jumped over the moon,_

_The little dog laughed to see such fun,_

_And the fish-_ wait, no, it wasn't fish, it was dish- _and the dish ran away with the spoon."_

The company cheer again, Dwalin smacking my back encouragingly but far too hard as he laughs, so that I almost choke up my strawberries and grapes.

"Yours is better," I acknowledge, returning my breathing to normal and brushing a smile. I thank one of the Elves as he places a blood-red goblet down in front of me- it is tiny, it's head the size of a golf ball, suspended on a glass stem which is far too long to hold the weight of the bulbous goblet. Inside it is an astringent, bright purple liquid- I look across to Kili with a confused expression, and he shrugs, staring at his own glass.

"Aye, Gandalf," Oin calls over to the Wizard, his trumpet screwed into his ear as he sniffs at the drink, "what be this here, then?"

"That, Master Oin, would be evening wine," Gandalf says, "it contains a remedy to help you all get a good night's sleep."

"They plan on drugging us!" Gloin yammers; the others rile in agreement, Dwalin throwing his mug across the room so that it shatters against the arm of Lindir's seat- he stands hurriedly and moves out of the line of fire.

"They do not plan on drugging you," Gandalf corrects the rowdy gang, "the wine will heal your weary bones and provide you with the best night's sleep you have had in an age. Pray, drink quickly now, and then to bed with you all. There is a long journey ahead."

_A good night's sleep?! Count me in._

I grab hold of my goblet and raise a toast to the others.

"To Dwarves!"

The group cheer, smashing their glasses against one another's and stamping their feet again; Dwalin is given a new glass, which he smashes sharply against mine before downing the liquid in one gulp.

"It tastes like poison," Kili gurns, trying to scrape what is left of his own portion from his tongue- I sip at mine uneasily, the sting of the liquid burning my eyes, before eventually forcing myself to down it in one.

"Oh, wow," I breathe, "that is... that is pretty damn strong."

"Oh, the lass can't handle her drink!" Gloin laughs across the table, and I pull a face as best I can, but the strength of the powerful liquid has left me in quite a shock. I smack myself in the side of my face to clear my head, and end up following the Dwarves as they retreat to their quarters.

The quarters are made up of a dormitory with fifteen separate rooms, and a sort of recreational room which has been constructed on the balcony- we sit out there, having brought some of the food with us; Dwalin grabs a chair from one of the rooms and snaps it in half, splitting up the wood in order to make a fire- in typical fashion Bofur uses a wick of the nearest Dwarf's hair to use as kindle for the flame, and soon a warm red fire is burning in the heart of the company.

Our resident klepto Nori stuffs the tapestries from the walls into his saddlebag as Bifur roasts a cabbage on the fire absentmindedly, the glow of the flame glinting on the axe embedded in his forid. Bombur sits on a creaking table which is clearly insufficient for its immense weight, and I see Bofur looking with wicked eyes at a sausage that he now holds in his hand.

"Bombur," he calls, and throws the stick of meat to his brother- the ginger Dwarf catches it gratefully, and the gentle influx of weight is all it takes to being the table down. The wood groans before splintering with a thud and cracking beneath Bombur's weight, sending the round Dwarf to the floor with a surprised yell. We all laugh thunderously, Bofur actually rolling out of his seat, and it takes a long while for us to calm back down again.

I sit in the alcove of the balcony with Kili, legs pulled up tight beneath me and toying with the frayed edge of my dress, humming the tune that the Elves were playing earlier. Kili, legs tucked beneath a fur blanket, pulls out his pipe and hands it to Bifur to light on the flames, then sits smoking it quite happily, staring at his own knees and listening in as the others laugh about how odd it must be to be an Elf and the possible issues that might arise as a by-product. The smell of the pipes starts to get to me, making me feel even drowsier than the specially brewed wine has already.

"You really shouldn't smoke, you know," I say to Kili, eyes closed now, "it's pretty bad for you. And I don't think it's nicotine you've got in that pipe of yours."

"It's just a little pipe weed," Kili dismisses, waving some of the musk away, "we picked it up back in the Shire- the stuff from home is stronger, but this isn't all that bad."

"It'll be _'all that bad'_ when you've got no brain cells left," I tell him with a frown; clearly he doesn't fully understand, so instead exhales his next breath in rings into my face.

"Wow," I say sarcastically, imitating the first thing that comes into my head, "many skill. Such impress."

_...I am a little impressed._

"You ought try it," he offers, and I shake my head, lying down and putting my head against the furs near his feet. "I could teach you how to blow rings, if you like."

"You're alright," I reject, snuggling down against the fur pelts and closing my eyes briefly. "Goodnight, Kili."

"Oh, we're going, are we?" he murmurs- I glance up with one eye open, registering the use of_ 'we'._ He blots out his pipe and closes his own eyes, and I feel his hand grab hold of my own beneath the cover of the blanket. I smile and give it a little squeeze.

"You have to show me your world this time, remember. You promised, and a promise should always be kept. Show me the best that your world has to offer. I'll see you soon, then," he breathes quietly, squeezing back a little too hard.

I smile back, eyes closed again now as the warmth of the fire and pelts lulls me to sleep.

"In a while, crocodile."

**AN: Elves, man. I wish I was an Elf.**

**And don't worry guys- 'Rustabell' instead of Rhosgobel was intentional XD**

**Back to the real world next chapter, huzzah!**

**Thanks for the reviews guys! x**


	18. Chapter 18: Shopping List

**Chapter Eighteen:**

**Shopping List**

Waking up back at home comes with its own surprise; Josie is sat on the edge of the dining room table, her hand poised over my forehead.

"Jos?" I murmur, eyes half-open, "what are you-?"

That, Ladies and Gentlemen, is when I see the Sharpie marker between her fingers. She stares at me, mortified, and I snatch the black biro away from her.

"I'm sorry," she says before I even fully register what she has been occupying her time with, "I was really bored, there was nothing good on TV and you two were still asleep so-"

"I am going to kill you," I tell her, standing quickly and heading for the bathroom. I stare at myself in the mirror and shriek aloud.

She has blocked in my usually light eyebrows, now thick and black, into a monobrow.

"Josephine Jade Maddox!" I scream, staring at my distorted face, "you better run for the hills, you little psychopath, because I am going to tear your throat out with a cheese grater-!"

"That doesn't even make any sense!" Josie screams, and I can already hear her running for a hiding place. "I was just having a laugh-!"

"_'Having a laugh?'_" I shriek, "having a laugh is filling someone's toothpaste tube with olive oil or leaving a bag of flaming dog shite on their doorstep, this is just pure _evil-!"_

"I did it to Kili, too!" she squeals, as though that makes it somehow better.

"Oh, brilliant!" I roar sarcastically, scrumming my face with a wet flannel, "so now there's two of us looking like flaming idiots-!"

Kili's voice comes through from the living room.

"What's going on?"

"Oh, Jesus," I moan, scowling as I re-enter the room- Kili stares at me, face blank with shock a moment before he beams into a wide grin.

"Don't you dare," I growl at him, observing the curled Victorian-style moustache that Josie has etched onto his visage, "besides, you won't be laughing when you see what she's done to you- come here, Ki."

_"Ki?"_ he muses, "I'm not sure if I like that; does this mean I can call you Lav-?"

"No, it does not," I say before I show him his ink-smothered face in the mirror. He knots his eyebrows in horror.

"That looks _terrible-"_

"It does not!" Josie demands, poking her head up from behind the sofa where she is hiding herself from my wrath, "you look beautiful, both of you do- stunning, even!"

"Flattery will get you nowhere," I warn her, "it's best if you shut your face now, Josie my dear, before I grab that cheese grater."

I continue scrubbing at my face with water from the bathroom sink, adding heaps of soap, but it is to barely any avail; after ten minutes of scrubbing away the best I've managed is to get my eyebrows looking a sort of greyish colour.

_Thanks for that, Jos._

"It was just a joke," Josie says, making us all a cup of tea out in the kitchen, "besides, _most _of it will come off... I'm sure no one will notice when we go shopping."

_"Shopping?!"_ I say to her, "I'm not leaving the house looking like this, and neither is Kili." I scrub at his face with a wet cloth much in the way a mother might clean her child's face after a bowl of spaghetti Bolognese. "You'll have to go and get clothes and stuff for him."

"No way, I'm not going on my own!" Jos shrieks, "there are weirdos up town-"

"Yeah, and we'll be the bloody weirdos if we go looking like this."

"You promised you would take me out," Kili says with a smile, stretching his lips as I scrub hard at his cupid's bow, "a promise should always be honored-"

"Shut up, you. You're not going anywhere with this felt-tip moustache on your face."

"I cannot take you seriously with those brows," he says, and I kick him, scratching the remnants of the ink from his upper lip.

"...There. That should do it. Now go on, go and get in the shower."

The shower scares Kili. He does not understand how it works, what it is for, or why on Earth he would be in need of a bath when he only bathed last month. Josie and I manage to convince him to try it, the two of us giving a hand in removing his buckled scabbards, gauntlets and bracers. I show him the use for the shampoo, soap and conditioner, but he eyes it suspiciously- I doubt he'll end up using it. I rub some shampoo into the roots of his hair without his consent as Josie helps him out of his over-coat and grabs hold on the rim of his shirt.

"I think I can do the rest myself," he says a little uncomfortably, shooing us away and locking himself in the bathroom; the pair of us sit facing each other on the sofa and I stare her down. Josie is only able to mutter a single word;

_"...Eyebrows."_

"Yes," I glower, flicking her hard against her forehead, "eyebrows... I'll get you back for this, Josephine Maddox, if it's the last thing I ever do."

"I'm sorry, babe. I thought it would be funny."

I give her a little smile.

"...It is a little funny."

Josie looks at Kili's sword, lying across the kitchen table. She picks it up, unsheathes it, and pokes her finger at the end of the blade.

"This is awesome," she says, and gives it a swing.

"If you accidently kill me with that, I will come back and haunt your ass," I warn her, unsheathing one of the daggers from his gauntlets and inspecting the blade. "They're gorgeous."

"We could flog them at the pawn shop," Josie suggests, "we'd get loads for them, wouldn't we?"

_"'This time next year, we'll be millionaires,'"_ I quote in my best cockney accent. "We can't flog them, you plonker. These are the family heirlooms of the line of Durin."

"Look at you," Josie grins, "down with the lingo now, aren't we?"

"Indeed I am. Once we're in town I'll get some money out of the bank. I've got some savings from all that babysitting I did last summer; we'll get him some normal clothes, I'll get some cookery DVD's, and we can show Kili around. Deal?"

"Sounds like a plan, Stan."

Kili comes out of the shower a few minutes later, exposed skin glistening with water droplets and geared back up in his layers and layers of clothing.

"We'll have none of that," Josie tells him, "we can't walk down the road with you looking like... well, like you've just come out of Middle-Earth. I've got a plain black tracksuit we can shove you in until we get you some real clothes."

Josie goes off to find the tracksuit, and I grab the hairbrush we were using as a microphone the other day.

"Sit," I instruct him; he doesn't, so I grab his arm and pull him down onto the floor in front of me. I pull out the ornate silver grip in the back of his hair and run the comb through his dark, tangled tresses. Like a six-year-old girl getting ready for school, he whines.

"Just keep still!" I tell him, holding him by the shoulder as he tries to pull away, "it won't take long-"

"But it _hurts-"_

"There, it's done. That wasn't all that bad, was it? Jos, have you got any hair bobbles?"

She throws one through from her bedroom- it is neon pink.

"Oh. Anything a little more... _manly?"_

"You just asked me for a _hair band,"_ she muses, "how manly can it get?"

I pull the band through his hair, gathering the loose wet threads back over his shoulders. Josie calls him to her room to put on his tracksuit, and the two of us get dressed in the bathroom, hair straighteners beeping and taps running.

"Are you two ready?" Kili calls, rearing to go- I tell him to hold his horses as I scrape my hair back into two plaits, rub some makeup on my face with all the skill of Dame Edna Everage and spring back through to the living room, fighting to pull on my boots.

"Kili," I say as he sits on the sofa, looking utterly peculiar and just... just _wrong_ in the dark tracksuit. "What's that in your pocket?"

He reaches down into it and pulls out one of the daggers that was hidden in his vambracers.

"No," I tell him, pulling it from his hand, "no, no... you can't walk the streets with daggers here, It's just not done. You'll get yourself arrested."

"But what if we run into any wild beasts, how am I to protect you and Josie-?"

"I promise we won't run into any wild beasts... besides, Jos and I are perfectly capable of looking after ourselves."

"I don't believe that for a second," he grins, standing and heading for the door. Josie prances from the bathroom, hair primed with bright blue _(yes, bright blue)_ hair extensions and wearing a puffball lime skirt covered in fluorescent-pink zombie unicorns. To me this is just every-day Jos, but Kili freezes a moment in surprise. I usher him out of the door, and our trio head for the town centre, bus fair and dread lining my pockets.

A Dwarf, a blue-haired zombie-unicorn covered Josie, and me, with my rag-tag hair and faded sharpie marker eyebrows, which I have tried my best to cover by changing the parting in my hair so that I can barely see through my fringe. _This is going to be... interesting._

"Kili tried to kill a car when we walked here from your house," Josie informs me as we descend the stairs, "he stabbed one of the tyres. We had to run away- it was pretty awesome."

I shake my head, not at all surprised.

"We'll have to pay for that."

"Sure. Kili, promise you won't freak out when we get on the bus."

_"Bus?"_

"It's like a car, but bigger. Buses won't try to eat you, either."

"Where are we going, exactly?"

"Shopping," I tell him. "Like going to the market, but with fluorescent lights and chavs and street performers and tourists. You're going to love it."

I'm right; Kili is enchanted by the whole experience, from his fervent giggles caused by the thrill of the bus ride to his astonishment at the people dressed as moving statues; it takes Josie and I a solid twenty minutes to get him past the various attractions and distractions and inside the discount clothing store where we plan to find him something a little more fitting to wear.

"We should get him some razors," Josie suggests as she peruses the rows and rows of t-shirts and jeans, "get rid of that awful stubble thing he's got going on."

"To shave one's beard would be an insult to Durin himself," Kili defends, and Josie scoffs aloud.

"_'Beard?' _That's wishful thinking, mate. You've got facial fuzz at best."

"This is nice," I say as the pair continue to bicker over the correct categorization for Kili's facial hair, plucking a dark plaid lumberjack shirt from one of the clothing racks. "What do you think, Kili?"

"It's not very practical," he says, "what about when winter comes-?"

_"Winter is coming!'"_ Josie yells in her best imitation-Ned Stark voice, "brace yourselves-!"

"Just try it on," I say to Kili with a smile, "It'll look great, we'll get you some jeans, too- light or dark?"

"Dark," Josie offers, pretending to slay her imaginary foes with a make-believe sword in the isle behind us; I agree and push Kili through to the changing rooms with the clothes, waiting outside for him.

"Let's put him in a suit," Josie whispers, "just make him try one on. He'll look super-hot."

Shamelessly, we do, forcing Kili to change his outfit a grand total of seven times for our own amusement, and Josie is right. The dress suit suits him very well; unfortunately we can't afford to don our Dwarf in top-and-tails with our minimal clothes budget, so settle for the lumberjack shirt, dark jeans and a pair of black shoes, all of which suit him rather well (and all of which are on sale). Josie demands to see Kili wearing a fedora for some unknown reason, so marches us into the nearest hat shop; I grab a plain black beanie hat with the aim of hiding away Kili's unusually long flowing locks and head to the counter whilst Josie snaps pictures on her mobile phone of Kili in various headgear, everything from a studded Stetson to a Victorian-style top hat. By the look on the shop assistant's face when I reach the counter, it is clear we have outstayed our welcome.

I turn back to my companions, and stop dead in my tracks as I do.

Standing between myself and my friends are the two people I am repelled by most in this world; Jacob Maloney and Katie Johnson, the _'it'_ couple from back in my high school days. They are the picture of pretentiousness, all matching button-down shirts and designer sunglasses, mascara and fake tan (on both of them, that is). A shudder runs through me, and I act upon my first instinct:

_Hide._

I dive behind the nearest shelf, and have the sudden shock-horror feeling that Josie, my beautiful, terrifying Josephine, is still within their sights; before I can do anything to stop the inevitable, I hear her tinkling voice sweep over my head. She yells across the store,

"Jake-the-bake! Katie!"

Oh, Lord._ Josie, why you do this?!_

The pretentious couple look up from choosing whether to by stuffed or non-stuffed olives from the unnecessarily placed salad bar in the hat store (yes, that is the level of absurdity and stuck-upness this shop has attained) and stare in Josie's direction, faces blurred with shock.

"Oh," Katie says, clearly feigning being pleased to see Josie with her blue extensions, too-bright makeup and chubby grin, "do we know each other-?"

"We went to school together, don't you remember me?" Josie beams, practically skipping across the store with Kili behind her; the couple exchange a look, and something clicks within Jacob's mind.

"Yes, I remember you," he says in his too-clear voice, "yes, you were the girl who used to mix her apple juice with her milkshake at lunch."

"That's me," Josie says with a wink. "Hey, do you remember Alice?"

Oh, Jos. Please, don't do it.

"She's in here, too- Al, where are you hiding?"

You've been caught out, Alice. Admit defeat... style it out.

I spring to my feet and throw the group a beaming grin.

"Hello!"

"Alice," Jacob says mock-fondly, "...what were you doing down there?"

"Oh, you know, just... uh... checking for mice. "Can't be too careful in a place like this- well, we've gotta go, things to do, people to see, it's been great meeting up with you guys-"

"Wait up a minute," Jacob says with another fake smile, "we've barely had time to catch up- say, why don't you guys come and have lunch with us? We were going to try the Vin Palace-"

_You never spoke a word to either of us at school, and suddenly you're offering to take us out for lunch?_

"That's really nice of you, but we really have to be going," I say, almost shuddering with anxiety in my attempt to escape before one of the three of us do or say something incredibly strange.

"If money's the issue, we can cover that," Katie offers sweetly but with poison on her tongue, "we've got plenty to go around." The tinkling bell laugh she adds at the end makes me want to punch her in her stupid plastic face. _Yes, we are poor. Please, rub the salt of how rich you are and have always been a little further into our peasant wounds. Much appreciated, Barbie._

"Look at this!" Josie sings, quickly distracted. She pulls Kili away to one of the hat stands to shove a sombrero on his head. I stand awkwardly, wanting nothing more than to leave the presence of these people.

"Who is that?" Jacob says, gesturing to Kili as he peruses through the shelves with Josie. She sticks the hat on his head so hard that it comes past his eyeline, and he struggles to prise it off his head as Josie proceeds to put another on top of it. I smile broadly at the pair, wishing more than anything that I was over there with them as opposed to being stuck here with this horrid pair.

"Who is that?" Jacob repeats, "standing with Josephine."

"It's _Josie,"_ I remind him- Josie hates her full name and would go bonkers if she heard anyone other than my mother or myself call her by it, and even then she'll only deal with it if she's in trouble. "And that," I continue, staring at Kili- _ooh, he is attractive._ Even with the badly drawn on sharpie 'tache and the less-than-fitting garb.

_Meh, I can lie to these people. _

"That's my boyfriend," I say, giving him a nod.

Jacob frowns, brows raised.

"Isn't he a little... _old?"_

I grin. _Keep your opinions to yourself, ass-wipe._

"...You have no idea. See you some other time then, I suppose... really, really _lovely _seeing the two of you. Happy shopping; Jos, Kili, let's jump this joint. I doubt we could afford anything from here, anyways."

I snuggle the fitted hat we brought for Kili_ (once again, on sale)_ onto his head and lead our trio into the street, leaving the befuddled pair in the store to ponder their choice of olives.

"McDonalds or KFC?"

"The Colonel, of course," Josie says, tugging at the hem of her skirt, "Kili needs to learn the joys of eleven secret herbs and spices."

We make our way into the fast food restaurant, order a bucket and dive face-first into a mountain of chicken, sweet-corn and oh-so salty fries. Kili is utterly engrossed by the Colonel's spicy secrets, and is practically unreachable as he sucks the meat from the bones in full-Dwarf style.

"No table manners," Josie grins, slurping her coke; Kili winces as he sucks down his own, and I have the sudden fear that the influx of sugar- a food which seems to be almost completely scarce from the Dwarven diet- might just kill him stone dead.

"My head is pounding," I whine to my pals, groaning as a sudden pulsating pain begins to shimmy at the back of my skull. There is a mild electric buzzing, and for a moment I can hear nothing; then, without warning, a sound fills my mind.

_The Lord of silver fountains,_

_The Prince of carven stone._

_The King beneath the mountain,_

_Shall come into his hold._

"What was that?!" I say quickly, looking around the dining hall; Kili and Josie both look alarmed.

"What was what?"

"That voice," I say, "that singing. Didn't you guys hear it? It was... It was really loud, a woman's voice-"

_And the bells will ring in gladness,_

_At the mountain Lord's return._

"There it is again," I say, "where is it coming from?"

"Lavender, there was no sound-"

_But all shall fail in sadness,_

_And the lake will shine and burn._

"Oh, God," I say, suddenly unable to cope with the dizzy feeling, "It's... it's hot in here. I... I don't feel good... I don't feel good at all..."

Kili grabs my wrist, and I feel my eyes rolling in my skull.

"Lavender-?!"

"Al-?! Babe, what's wrong-?!"

"I... _I..."_

_...I'm going to pass out._

**AN: DAFUQ?!**

**Hey, guys! Sorry it took so long for me to update, life has been majorly hectic over the last few days. Hopefully updates will be back up to scratch from this point on! **

**Did you like the chapter? Hopefully this one was long enough. Let me know, your reviews are loved and cherished by my inner word processor! See you all soon, guys!**

**-Wiza x**


	19. Chapter 19: The Lady of Light

**Chapter Nineteen:**

**The Lady of Light**

I wake up on the outside platform of our dormitory, my head against the back wall as the fire crackles wildly before my eyes. Fili stands on the balcony, the only other person still out here; I feign sleep a little while longer, trying my best to make sense of what has just happened.

_The Lord of silver fountains,  
The Prince of carven stone.  
_There it is again. I sit upright, pulling the blankets over Kili's sleeping form as I do so, and find that this time I have the strangest feeling; I feel like I should go inside, as though there's something there waiting for me.

"You oughten be awake at this time of night," Fili muses, turning with his pipe in mouth and following a step after me; I give him a quick nod, entranced, and head inside.

"Lavender?" he calls after me; but I am already gone.

_The King beneath the mountain,  
Shall come into his hold..._

I should head through the halls, I think, and find myself drifting through the corridors of the Elven palace, barely taking in the beauty of their ivory walls and voile-draped columns. Despite having only walked them once, I find that I can easily navigate the hallways and alcoves.

_And the bells will ring in gladness,  
At the mountain Lord's return._

Out onto the courtyard, out into the starlight. Up the marble staircase and through the driftwood archways, my fingers stroking at the white and crimson crystals intricately embedded in the walls.

_But all shall fail in sadness,  
And the lake will shine and burn._

Through this doorway, I think; yes, this is where I want to go. I open up the doorway to reveal a podium etched into the edge of the cliff face, and a tall, elegant figure stood in its centre, a river of silver-gold hair flowing down her back. She stands facing away from me in a dress of white satin, and when she turns to face me I almost pass out from her beauty. She flashes me a radiant light array of a smile, her light eyes crinkling in the corners, and purses her rosebud lips.

"Hello," I say in a near whisper.

"Hello, Alice," she says in the voice that I heard singing, "I am Galadriel."

I need no more explanation than that; her very presence is enough to let me know that she is utterly wholesome, and I can trust her completely. I find myself smiling back at her, heightened by her very presence.

"How do you know my name?" I ask her, and she smiles.

"I see much," she tells me, but this time the words do not come from her perfect mouth; they come, instead, from within my own head. I jolt a little at the surprise of it, and she says aloud,

"Do not be afraid."

The contrast of the words coming from her mouth and not from within my skull shocks me somewhat.

"I see so much," she repeats, "and yet, here I understand so little. You have traveled far, Alice."

I nod, and she extends her hand to me.

"Come."

I do as I am told without question, basking in the light of her ethereal beauty; she almost seems to glow. I stop a little short of her, almost afraid to approach her slender form, and she steps closer to me, her head lowered to accommodate my minuscule height. I feel like an insect beside her.

"You know, then," I say carefully, "about my..._ travelling?"_

She nods and asks me to tell her everything about my experiences so far, and I do so briskly; the two of us talk for a long time. She stands still as a statue through the entire ordeal, a pristine smile etched onto her perfect features. After a long time she says,

"I believe you might be able to attain a certain level of control over this condition of yours."

_"Condition?"_ I ask, attempting a laugh, "you make it sound like an affliction."

Galadriel turns her fact to the moonlight. "I am not yet decided whether it is a gift or a curse. Regardless, you must learn to control it."

I frown. "How can I do that?"

"Practice focusing your mind," she says; well, that's helpful. I look to her for explanation.

"Concentration is the key, I believe... focus your mind on specific details when you travel. That is all the advice I can offer."

"Do you have any idea what's causing the travelling in the first place?"

"I cannot say that I do," Galadriel breathes, "but I have heard rumors from the east; perhaps the answers lie there."

I nod, a little disappointed. "...Oh."

"Do not despair; these things take time. Until then, I need you to be prepared... I have had a satchel readied for you," the lady of light continues, "clothing, food, other essentials; they have been placed in your quarters. You should keep them close... I fear you may need them."

"W...What do you mean?"

Galadriel reaches out and takes hold of my hands.

"You will be safe here; my son-in-law is a good man, and a righteous one. He would not let any harm come to you. But there are others out there in the wider world who would sooner see you killed than help you, men more dangerous than even Orcs and Goblins. Think of your own life, and keep it safe. I would suggest you stay here in Rivendell with my people... but from what I can read of you, not even I would be able to turn you towards abandoning Thorin Oakenshield's party; your loyalty is admirable, even at such an early stage. But know this; the road ahead shall not be easy. I fear that there is a traitor in your midst. One who would mislead you, who would bring you to harm. The one you would least expect to hurt you in such a way... be careful who you trust, Alice, daughter of the Other-world."

She touches her graceful fingers to my face, and her skin feels like cashmere. I close my eyes, lost in the feeling and terrified by her words. The feather-light touch leaves my face and I open my eyes to find that Lady Galadriel is gone.

I walk back to the dormitory, repeating all of Galadriel's words over and over in my mind; _think of your own life. a traitor in your midst._

"Lavender," Fili says, taking hold of my shoulders as we meet in the hallway. "I was just coming to find you; where did you disappear to?"

"I just went for a little walk," I tell him. He shrugs and leads the two of us back towards the dormitories, and I find myself sat out on the balcony with Fili. He lights his pipe again, offers me a whiff and rolls his eyes as I decline.

"Needed to clear my head... it's beautiful, this place."

"I suppose it is," he says, before quickly adding, "for Elven architecture, at least."

I smile up at him. "Why do you hate the Elves?"

Like a child at a recital he decrees, "they abandoned our people at the Battle of Azanulbizar in Nanduhirion-"

"That's not what I asked," I say to him with a smirk. "Those are your uncle's words... why do _you_ hate the Elves?"

Fili ponders for a moment. "Perhaps is the Elves had stepped up that day, I would have grown up dressed in purple garments rather than rags, with a crown on my head instead of a blacksmith's tie. Instead of huts of mud I would have played surrounded by pillars of silver, and the toys Bifur made for Kili and I would have been made out of gold rather than wood."

"Kids don't need gold toys," I tell him, smiling again; he returns the gesture and folds his legs beneath him.

"No, I suppose not. But they would have broken a lot less easily... here, take a look at this." He removes one of his gloves and shows me the back of his short hand; there is a marking there, an unintelligible squiggle accompanied by a series of hap-dash lines.

"What is it?" I ask, confused, and he laughs.

"I've often asked myself the same; a failed attempt at a tattoo from childhood. Kili and I managed to get hold of some ink and a pricking needle when we were very young back in Ered Luin... we were great admirers of our uncle Dwalin, you see. I allowed my little brother, in my foolishness, to adorn me with this masterpiece. It was supposed to be in Dwarvish, but looks more like the haphazard scribble of a deranged goblin-child."

I find myself laughing manically; Fili hushes me for worry of waking up his brother, still sleeping in the corner of the balcony, but I know that there's no way that is going to happen; he's probably still eating his KFC.

"What is it supposed to say?" I ask, rubbing my thumb over the ink work.

"_'Brother',_" he tells me, quite proudly; I feel my heart grow a little heavier with longing. "Spelt_ 'Khâzash'_ in Khuzdul, but it does, in fact, say_ 'Chasa'..._ Kili was never all that good as spelling in his youth- nor now, come to think of it- and our mother found us before Kili could etch the remaining_ 'sh'_ into my skin, though I doubt he would have even been able to spell those two letters right. One day I'll get my revenge by hailing some obscenity into the skin of his wrist for the rest of time."

"I bet mother Dwarf was impressed," I murmur with a roll of my eyes; Fili grimaces.

"Hardly. She sent us to Uncle Thorin; our father was dead by this time, may his beard forever remain uncut. Thorin scalded me terribly and simply confined Kili to the house and away from swords training for the week... he was always the favorite."

"Why do you think that?"

"He is the baby of the family," Fili smiles, "Its always been his job to be the favorite. I do worry sometimes," Fili confesses. "I see my dear brother gallivanting around, in all his youth and his excitable nature, and I fear for him."

"...Why?"

Fili smiles. "Because he is my little brother, of course. It is_ my_ job to worry about him. I promised our mother I would watch over him, keep him as safe as I can. Don't let him know I have told you this- he would probably die of embarrassment- but he carries a small token from home; cherishes it. A gift from from our mother, Dis. She is quite the woman, our mother."

"I bet she is," I smile. "I'd love to meet her."

"I imagine you will, once this is all over... god help you. Without a beard on your chin, I doubt she would so much as look your way, Lavender... she is very traditional. Upholds ancient Dwarrow morals to the highest degree. I suppose you might win her over... eventually." Fili comes to the end of his pipe and clears his throat.

"To bed, then," he suggests, "it will be a long journey ahead. If we are to leave tomorrow, we shall all need to be well-rested... goodnight, Lavender."

"Nightey-night, Fili."

Once he is gone, I blow out the candles and drift over to Kili. I curl myself up beside him, back under the blanket; he murmurs a little in his sleep as I close my eyes and prepare to dream of home. I remember Galadriel's suggestion and try my hardest to stay faithful to it.

Focus your mind.

_Kili,_ I think, as he is the one and only stable thing which I have found in both words.

_Kili._

**AN: Fili banter is just so fun to write. Wrongly-spelt tattoos and gold toys... dat Dwarf childhood.**

**In answer to someone's question: a plonker is an idiot, basically, and feel free to insult people with it! I doubt that Only Fools and Horses is popular in America... it's very British humor. I implore you all to look it up, though, it's comedy gold!**

**Until next time, you wonderful wizardlings, and please leave a review!**


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